Skip to main content

Full text of "The dissociation of a personality; a biographical study in abnormal psychology"

See other formats




Dr.   Kate   Gordon 






Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 














Copyright,  1905, 
By  Longmans,  Green,  &  Co. 

All  rights  reserved. 



Ed. /Psych. 


nnHB  present  volume  contains  Parts  I  and  II  of  a  larger 
-*-  work,  "Problems  in  Abnormal  Psychology,"  but  it  is 
complete  in  itself.  It  is  a  study  of  disintegrated  person- 
ality, as  exemplified  by  the  very  remarkable  case  of  Miss 
Beauchamp.  In  this  study  I  have  (a)  traced  the  develop- 
ment of  the  different  personalities  which  originated  through 
the  disintegration  of  the  normal  self,  and  (6)  shown  their 
psychological  relations  to  one  another  and  to  the  normal 
self.  By  giving  (c)  a  detailed  account  of  the  daily  life  of 
the  personalities,  after  the  manner  of  a  biography,  I  have 
sought  to  show  their  behavior  to  the  environment  and  the 
way  in  which  a  disintegrated  personality  can  adapt  itself 
to  the  circumstances  of  life,  and  how  it  fails  to  do  so. 

Selections  from  recorded  observations,  many  times  in 
number  those  here  given,  have  been  made  use  of  with  the 
view  of  familiarizing  the  reader  with  the  main  phenomena, 
.80  that  when  we  come  to  consider  in  another  volume  the 
psychological  problems  involved,  we  shall  have  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  fundamental  data.  These  phenomena  have 
been  briefly  discussed  in  this  volume  as  an  introduction 
to  a  deeper  study. 

By  departing  from  the  customary  way  of  treating  these 
phenomena   and    introducing   them   in   the    course   of    a 



biography,  I  have  been  enabled  to  present  them  without 
removing  them  from  their  psychological  setting.  This 
method,  too,  has  permitted  not  only  greater  latitude  in 
their  presentation,  but,  it  seems  to  me,  will  tend  to  give  a 
deeper  meaning  to  the  phenomena  themselves  and  a  better 
appreciation  of  those  normal  and  abnormal  alterations  of 
the  human  mind  which  are  met  with  in  practical  life. 

While  1  have  sought  to  interpret  the  various  phenomena 
observed  in  ways  which  seem  to  me  to  be  the  logical 
inductions  from  the  observations  herein  recorded,  and  from 
the  established  data  of  abnormal  psychology,  my  first  aim 
has  been  to  secure  the  accuracy  of  the  observations 

A  brief  preliminary  report  of  this  case,  under  the  title 
of  "The  Problem  of  Multiple  Personality,"  was  presented 
at  the  International  Congress  of  Psychology,  held  in  Paris, 
August,  1900. 

In  Part  III,  which  will  be  issued  as  a  separate  volume, 
it  is  my  present  intention  to  discuss  a  series  of  problems 
which  will  include : 

(a)    The   theory   of    this   case   and   of  disintegrated 
personality  in  general; 

(6)    The   Subconscious   under  normal  and  abnormal 

conditions ; 
(c)    Hypnosis,  Sleep,  Dreams,  and  Somnambulism ; 
(c?)    Hysteria ; 
(e)    Neurasthenic  States ; 
(/)  Alterations  of  Character; 
(^)  Hallucinations,  Fixed  Ideas,  Aboulia,  Amnesia,  etc. 


Abnormal  psychology  is  fast  forging  to  the  front  as  an 
important  field  of  research.  The  signs  of  the  times  point 
to  this  field,  which  has  long  awaited  investigation  by  modern 
methods,  as  one  to  which  scientific  thought  is  now  being 
directed  and  one  which  promises  results  of  importance. 
Much  work  has  already  been  accomplished,  and  a  good 
beginning  made.  The  ground,  however,  has  only  been 
opened,  and  rich  rewards  await  the  investigator.  I  trust 
that  the  present  work  will  prove  a  contribution  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  subject.  • 

458  Beacon  Street,  Boston, 
August,  1905. 




Chapter  Page 

I.   Introductory 1 

II.   Miss  Beauchamp 9 

III.  The  Birth  of  Sally 20 

IV.  The  Beginnings  of  Automatism 52 

V.    Instability  and  Suggestibility 64 

VI.    How   Sally   Got  her  Eyes   Open  and  the 
Subconscious     Became     an  •  Alternating 

Personality ^ 91 

VII.    Sally  "on  Top  of  the  Heap" 102 

VIII.    Subconscious  Battles  :  Aboulia,  Impulsions, 

Obsessions 119 

IX.   Sally  as  a  Subconscious  and  as  an  Alter- 
nating  Personality 144 

X.    Sally  Torments  Miss  Beauchamp  with  Prac- 
tical Jokes 156 

XI.    The  Birth  of  B  IV,  "the  Idiot"  ....     171 

XII.    A  House  Divided  against  itself    ....     187 

XIII.    The  Birth  of  B  I,  "the  Saint"     ....     210 



XIV.   Is  not  B  IV  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp?    .  231 

XV.   Dissociations  of  Consciousness  :  Amnesia     .  251 
XVI.    An  Important  Discovery:  B  I  and  B  IV  when 

Hypnotized  Become  the  Same  Person      .  266 


Chapter  Page 

XVII.   Studies  in  Character 283 

XVIII.   Is  B  II  THE  Real  Miss  Beauchamp?  — B  la    302 
XIX.    Sally    Hypnotizes    B   IV  and    Fights   for 

Control 310 

XX.    Dreams.     B  I  and  B  IV  Become  the  Same 

Person  when  Asleep 326 

XXI.   The    Psychology    of    Sudden    Conversion  : 
Miss  Beauchamp   Falls   into  a  State  of 
Ecstasy  and  Believes  herself  Cured       .     344 
XXII.    Sally  Plays  Medium  (Subconscious  Writing)     356 

XXIII.  The  Autobiography  of  a  Subconscious  Self     367 

XXIV.  How  B  I  AND  B  IV  were  Made  One  Person, 

AND  THE  Unexpected  Consequences  .     .     .  398 

XXV.    Social  Life  in  1900 418 

XXVI.    Sally  Succeeds  in  Becoming  Conscious  of 
B  IV's   Thoughts    and    is  Astounded  at 

what  she  Learns 435 

XXVII.    B  IV  a  AND  Types  of  Disintegration  .     .     .  444 

I  XXVIII.   Emotion  and  Disintegration 456 

XXIX.   Types  of  Disintegration  :  Mental  Strain  as 

A  Cause 462 

XXX.   A  Contest  between  Personalities  ....  476 

XXXI.   A  Hallucination  from  the  Subconscious     .  505 
XXXII.   The  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  at  Last,  and  how 

SHE  WAS  Found 514 

Appendices 627 

Index 565 








MISS  Christine  L.  Beauchamp,i  the  subject  of  this 
study,  is  a  person  in  whom  several  personalities 
have  become  developed  ;  that  is  to  say,  she  may  change 
her  personality  from  time  to  time,  often  from  hour  to  hour, 
and  with  each  change  her  character  becomes  transformed 
and  her  memoiies  altered.  In  addition  to  the  real,  original 
or  normal  self,  the  self  that  was  born  and  which  she  was 
intended  by  nature  to  be,  she  may  be  any  one  of  three 
different  persons.  I  say  three  different,  because,  although 
making  use  of  the  same  body,  each,  nevertheless,  has  a 
distinctly  different  character;  a  difference  manifested  by 
different  trains  of  thougKt,  by  different  views,  beliefs, 
ideals,  ^nd  temperament,  and  by  different  acquisitions, 
tastes,  habits,  6J!.pBritJllues,  and  memories,  Each  varies  in 
these  respects  from  th6  other' twoV  and  from  the  original 
Miss  Beauchamp.  Two  of  these  personalities  have  no 
knowledge  of  each  other  or  of  tlie  third,  excepting  such 
information  as  may  be  obtained  by  inference  or  second 

*  Pronounced  Beecham.  This  name,  which  I  have  adopted  for  the  pur- 
pose of  disguising  the  identity  of  the  subject,  was  originally  taken  in  the 
spirit  of  fun  by  one  only  of  the  personalities  to  distinguish  herself  from  the 
others.    I  have  used  the  name  for  all  three. 



hand,  so  that  in  the  memory  of  each  of  these  two  there 
are  blanks  which  correspond  to  the  times  when  the  others 
are  in  the  flesh.  Of  a  sudden  one  or  the  other  wakes 
up  to  find  herself,  she  knows  not  where,  and  ignorant  of 
what  she  has  said  or  done  a  moment  before.  Only  one  of 
the  three  has  knowledge  of  the  lives  of  the  others,  and  this 
one  presents  such  a  bizarre  character,  so  far  removed  from 
the  others  in  individuality,  that  the  transformation  from 
one  of  the  other  personalities  to  herself  is  one  of  the  most 
"striking  and  dramatic  features  of  the  case.  The  person- 
alities come  and  go  in  kaleidoscopic  succession,  many 
changes  often  being  made  in  the  course  of  twenty-four 
hours.  And  so  it  happens  that  Miss  Beauchamp,  if  I  may 
use  the  name  to  designate  several  distinct  people,  at  one 
moment  says  and  does  and  plans  and  arranges  something 
to  which  a  short  time  before  she  most  strongly  objected, 
indulges  tastes  which  a  moment  before  would  have  been 
abhorrent  to  her  ideals,  and  undoes  or  destroys  what  she 
had  just  laboriously  planned  and  arranged. 

Aside  from  the  psychological  interest  of  the  phenomena, 
the  s'ocial  complications  and  embarrassments  resulting  from 
this  inconvenient  mode  of  living  would  furnish  a  multi- 
tude of  plots  for  the  dramatist  or  sensational  novelist. 
Considered  simply  as  a  biography,  therefore,  an  account  of 
Miss  Beauchamp's  later  life  could  scarcely  fail  to  interest, 
if  it  were  told  divested  of  the  details  which  are  necessary 
for  the  purpose  of  scientific  study. 

Miss  Beauchamp  is  an  example  in  actual  life  of  the 
imaginative  creation  of  Stevenson,  only,  I  am  hapj)y  to  say, 
the  allegorical  representation  of  the  evil  side  of  human 
nature  finds  no  counterpart  in  her  makeup.  The  splitting 
of  personality  is  along  intellectual  and  temperamental,  not 
along  ^th1(^fl.1  hy^pg  n^  ^'pfi^age.  .bor  although  the  char- 
acters  of  the  personalities  widely  differ,  the  variations  are 
along  the  lines  of  nwyr^p,  t^mpej^ament,  and  tastes.  Each 
personaUty  is  incapable  of  doing  evil  to  others. 


Cases  of  this  kind  are  commonly  known  as  "  double  "  or 
"  multiple  personality,"  accoixiing  to  the  number  of  persons 
represented,  but  a  moTe^coTi^QLijQniOiiQAmMeu^af^d  per- 
sonality, for  each  secondary  personality  is  a  part  Qnly,of_a 
normal  whole^gglfa^^.  No  one  secondary  personality  pre- 
serves the  whole  psychical  life  of  the  indiyidual.  The 
synthesis  of  the  original  consciousness  known  as  the  per- 
sonal ego  is  broken  up,  so  to  speak,  and  shorn  of  some  of 
its  memories,  perceptions,  acquisitions,  or  modes  of  reaction 
to  the  enyironment.  The  conscious  states  that  still  persist, 
synthesized  among  themselyes,  form  a  new  personality  ca- 
pable of  independent  activity.  This  second  personality 
may  alternate  with  the  original  undisintegrated  personality 
from  time  to  time.  By  a  breaking  up  of  the  original 
personality  at  different  moments  along  different  lines  of 
cleavage,  there  may  be  formed  several  different  secondary 
personalities  which  may  take  turns  with  one  another. 
Again,  in  the  breakup  certain  conscious  states,  which  are 
rejected  in  the  synthesis  of  the  new  personality,  may  remain 
outside  the  consciousness  of  the  latter,  synthesized  among 
themselves,  and  thus  form  a  second  simultaneously/  acting 
consciousness.  This  is  called  a  subconsciousness.  It  will 
thus  be  seen  that  secondary  personalities  are  formed  by  the 
disintegration  of  the  original  norniul  personalities.  Dis- 
integratrdiaras  thus  used  must  not  be  confused  with  the 
same  term  sometimes  employed  in  the  sense  of  degenera- 
tion, meaning  a  destroyed  mind  or  organically  diseased 
brain.  Degeneration  implies  destruction  of  normal  psychi- 
cal processes,  and  may  be  equivalent  to  insanity ;  whereas 
J;he  disintegration  resulting  in  multiple  personality  is  only 
a  functional  dissociation  of  that  complex  organization  which 
constitutes  a  normal  self.  The  elementary  psychical  pro- 
cesses, in  themselves  normal,  aTe  capable  of  being  reassoci- 
ated  into  a  nonnal  whole. 

Quite  a  number  of  cases  of  disintegrated  or  multiple 
personality  have  been  observed,  sufficient  to  establish  be* 


yond  all  doubt  the  bona  fide  character  of  tlie  phenomena,  as 
well  as  the  general  principles  underlying  their  develop- 
ment. The  cases  thus  far  studied  aiid  reported  have  repre- 
sented varying  degrees  of  complexity  of  organization  of 
mental  Ttates  and  independence  of  the  personaUties.  I u  _ 
me simplerroms  the  secondary  personalities  are  manifested 
through  highly  syrilhesized  "  automatic  "  or  hypnotic  phe- 
nomena, and  are  recognized  only  as  subconscious  states 
through  so-called  automatic  writing,  and  kindred  mani- 
festations, or  else  as  states  of  hypnosisv  The  ^tate  called 
"  Mamie,"  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  R.,  repoi-ted  by  the  writer,^ 
^J  and  those  of  L^ontine  and  Ldonore  in  the  case  of  Madame 
B.,  described  by  Dr.  Pierre  Janet,  are  examples  of  this 
■    simpler  class. 

1^  Inmore  fully  developedforms  the  second  personalities 
are  identical  with  the  trance  states  of  mediums,  like  that 
of  Miss  "Smith,"  studied  by  M^  Floui-noy,  and  that  of 
Mrs.  "  Smead,*  studied  By  Professor  jlyslop.  In  such 
cases  the  second  personalii^^oes  not  obtain  a  completely 
independent  existence,  but  comes  out  of  its^shell,  so  to 
speak,  only  under  special  conditions  when  the  subject 
goes  into  a  "trance."  The  external  life  of  personalities  i 
of  this  sort,  so  far  as  it  is  carried  on  independently  of 
the  principal  consciousness,  is  extremely  restricted,  being 
confined  to  the  experiences  of  the  so-called  "seance." 
Although  such  a  personality  is  complete  in  having  posses- 
sion of  the  faculties  of  an  ordinary  human  being,  there  is 
very  little  independence  in  the  sense  of  a  person  who 
spontaneously  and  voluntarily  moves  about  in  a  social 
world,  and  works,  acts,  and  plays  like  any  human  being. 
It  is  questionable  how  far  such  a  personality  would  be 
capable  of  carrying  on  all  the  functions  of  a  social  life,  and 
of  adapting  itself  to  its  environment;  Hypnotic  states, 
'tlmt  is.   artificially  induced   types   of  disintegration,  are 

1  Boston  Med.  and  Surgical  Jourual,  May  15,  1890. 



rarelXi,iL6yer,  sufficientl^cfimplete,  and  possessed  of  ade- 
quate spontaneous  iidaptability  to  the  environment  to  con- 
stitute veritable  personalities.       j 

In  the  most  fully  developed  forms,  in  cases  like^  that- 
of  Felida  X.,  reported  by  M.  Azam  ;  of  Louis  Vive,  stud- 
ied by  several  French  observers;  and  of  Ansel  Bourne, 
studied  by  Dr.  Richard  Hodgson  and  Professor  William 
James,  the  disintegrated  personality  retains  that  large 
degree  of  complexity  of  mental  organization  whichTper- 
mits  complete,  free,  and  spontaneous  activity,  approx- 
imating, at  least,  that  of  normal  mental  life.  Though 
some  cases  exhibit  glaring  mental  and  physical  defects, 
others  may,  to  the  ordinary  observer,  exhibit  nothing  more 
than  an  alteration  of  character  and  loss  of  memory  for 
certain  periods  of  life.  Such  persons  often  pass  before 
the  world  as  mentally  healthy  persons,  though  physically 
they  may  be  neurasthenic.  But  a  careful  psychological 
examination  will  reveal  deviations  from  the  normal  which 
show  the  true  character  of  the  alteration.  It  is  to  this 
last  category  that  Miss  Beauchamp  belongs.  In  any  one 
of  her  mental  states  she  is  capable  of  living  her  social 
life  and  doing  her  daily  duties,  subject  only  to  the  limita- 
tion set  by  poor  general  health  ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
eacli  personality  leads  its  own  life  like  any  other  mortal.^ 

In  some  cases  there  is  no  loss  of  memory,  and  then  it  may 
be  difficult  to  recognize  that  we  have  to  do  with  a  true  dis- 
integrated, personality,  and  not  with  only  a  neurasthenic  or 
hysterical  condition.  Such  cases  are  generally  overlooked. 
One  of  the  personalities  in  this  case  was  of  this  type. 

The  mode  of  development  of  phenomena  of  this  sort,  the 
relation  of  the  personalities  to  one  another,  and  the  be- 
haviour of  the  disintegrated  minds  to  artificial  excitations 
and  the  environment  are  fascinating  objects  of  study,  not 
only  for  the  phenomena  themselves,  but  for  the  light  which 
they  throw  upon  the  functioning  of  the  human  mind. 


Miss  Beauchamp  has  been  under  observation  of  one  kind 
or  another  for  many  yeai-s,  enabling  her  friends  and  those 
particularly  interested  in  her  to  know  her  well.  She  has 
been  under  the  writer's  professional  care  for  more  than 
seven  years,  that  is,  since  the  early  part  of  1898._  During* 
'most  of  this  time  she  has  been  under  constant  and  often 
for  long  periods  daily  observation. 

For  a  satisfactory  comprehension  of  the  mental  phenom- 
ena which  are  the  object  of  this  study,  as  well  as  of  the 
causes,  physical  and  psychical,  which  led  to  their  develop- 
ment, it  is  desirable  that  the  reader  should  have  some 
knowledge  of  the  character  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  of  her 
heredity  and  early  life. 

It  will  be  understood  that  the  writer  feels  some  delicacy 
in  giving  publicity  to  the  private  life  —  even  though  the 
identity  be  concealed  —  of  a  sensitive,  refined  person, 
who,  by  natural  instinct,  shrinks  from  any  discussion 
of  herself ;  and,  though  her  free  permission  has  been  given 
for  study  and  publication,  I  shall  Hmit  all  account  of 
her  personal  and  family  characteristics  to  the  narrowest 
limits  that  are  compatible  with  the  requirements  of  the 

When  speaking  of  the  characteristics  of  "Miss  Beau- 
champ," or  when  I  say  "  she "  or  "  her,"  it  may  perti- 
nently be  asked,  "  Which  Miss  Beauchamp  ?  "  or  "  Which 
she  ?  "  It  wiU  facilitate  a  comprehension  of  the  important 
features  of  the  case,  and  a  better  appreciation  of  the  various 
situations,  as  they  unfolded  themselves  in  this  psycholog- 
ical drama,  if  for  the  present  the  name  Miss  Beauchamp  is 
limited  to  the  pei-son  with  whom  I  first  became  acquainted 
and  who  was  known  to  her  intimate  friends,  schoolmates, 
and  teachei-s.  Whether  or  not  this  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  was  a  question  which  there  was 
no  reason  at  that  time  to  raise,  and  whether  she  was  or  not 
I  shall  let  the  history  of  this  case  disclose.     My  first  a<5- 


quaintance  was  entirely  professional,  and  there  was  no 
ground  to  suspect  that  any  other  personality  existed. 

The  Miss  Beauchamp  whom  I  first  knew  was  the  only 
one  known  to  a  small  but  appreciative  circle  of  friends, 
whose  solicitude  she  had  awakened.  She  was  in  college 
at  the  time,  highly  regarded  by  her  teachers  and  classmates, 
and  recognized  as  a  diligent  and  conscientious  student. 
Whatever  the  future  was  to  reveal,  it  was  this  person 
alone  who  for  years  had  been  known  as  Miss  Beauchamp, 
and  who  had  been  educated,  cared  for  and  esteemed  as 
Miss  Beauchamp.  Let  it  be  understood,  then,  that  in 
describing  Miss  Beauchamp,  or  whenever  referring  to  her, 
the  name,  unless  otherwise  qualified,  refers  to  the  first 
Miss  Beauchamp,  the  one  who  first  came  under  observation. 
At  a  later  period,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  and  for  the  pur- 
pose of  distinguishing  her  from  the  others,  she  was  also 
named  B  I.  The  other  personalities  and  hypnotic  selves 
were  designated  B  II,  B  III,  B  IV,  etc.,  as  they  appeared. 
These  somewhat  clumsy  terms  were  employed  to  avoid 
committal  to  any  hypothesis  until  the  phenomena  had  been 
thoroughly  studied. 

It  is  important  to  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  Miss  Beau- 
champ was  well  known,  even  if  her  circle  was  a  small  one, 
and  that  when  she  came  under  observation  she  had  es- 
tablished during  the  course  of  a  number  of  years  strong 
bonds  of  association  with  her  friends.  If  it  turned  out 
that  our  protdg^  was  not  after  all  the  real  person  who  had 
been  born  into  this  world,  it  still  should  be  kept  in  mind 
that  no  reason  appeared  until  a  comparatively  recent 
period,  to  suspect  the  possible  previous  existence  of  any 
other  personality. 

During  the  past  six  years  ^  (1898-1904)  the  three  per- 
sonalities have  been  playing  a  comedy  of  errors,  which  has 
been  sometimes  farcical  and  sometimes  tragic.     They  run 

1  Written  in  1904. 


on  and  off  the  stage  in  a  way  confusing  to  the  observer, 
changing  places  from  moment  to  moment,  each  personating 
the  others  in  scenes  to  which  she  was  but  a  moment  before 
a  stranger,  j,nd_with  the  exception  of  Sally,  having_no 
knovvledge  of  what  has  gone  before.  During  these  years 
the  writer  has  kept  copious  notes,  often  made  daily,  of  the 
life  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  The  evidence  given  by  all  three 
personalities,  as  well  as  by  the  hypnotic  selves,  has  been 
laboriously  recorded.  Every  piece  of  evidence  which 
would  throw  light  upon,  substantiate,  or  discredit  any  al- 
leged occurrence  or  mental  phenomenon  has  been  made 
use  of.  At  all  times,  including  intervals  of  enforced  ab- 
sence, as  in  the  summer  vacations,  a  considerable  corre- 
spondence with  each  personality  has  been  kept  up.  Much 
of  this  has  been  made  use  of  in  the  following  account. 



MISS  Beauchamp  —  I  mean  the  one  who  first  pre- 
sented herself  for  professional  care  in  the  spring  of 
1898  (B  I)  —  is  extremely  reticent  and  dislikes  intensely 
any  discussion  of  herself  or  her  circumstances.  She  is 
even  reticent  in  reference  to  her  physical  ailments,  so 
much  so  that  it  is  never  easy  to  discover  any  temporary 
indisposition  from  vrhich  she  may  be  suffering.  She  dis- 
likes the  publicity  which  her  psychical  trouble  tends  to 
draw  upon  her,  and  has  sought  jealously  to  guard  her 
secret.  Indeed,  all  three  personalities  have  endeavored 
by  every  artifice  to  conceal  the  knowledge  of  their  trouble 
from  friends,  and  have  done  so  with  a  success  that  is  aston- 
ishing. It  has  been  at  the  expense  of  being  considered  a 
strange,  incomprehensible  person,  "unlike  other  people," 
as  may  well  be  the  case  when  three  persons  have  to  act  one 
rSle  in  life's  comedy.  The  publication  of  this  study  has 
been  consented  to  by  Miss  Beauchamp,  as  a  personal  favor, 
at  the  sacrifice  of  all  her  instinctive  tastes  and  inclinations. 
The  constant  answer  to  my  frequent  remonstrance  about 
her  reticence  is,  "I  have  never  been  in  the  habit  of  talk- 
ing about  my  private  affairs."  All  this  is  carried  to  the 
verge  of  morbidness,  or  to  what  more  exactly  might  be 
termed  ^^ fixed  ideas.''^  I  mention  this  merely  as  evidence 
of  the  absence  of  any  desire  for  notoriety,  or  exaggeration. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  acquainted  with  all  the  important  de- 
tails of  her  past  and  present  life. 

Besides  the  reticence  in  matters  pertaining  to  herself, 
already  mentioned,  she  is  possessed  of  a  conscientiousness 


which  at  times  has  proved  embarrassing  to  her  friends. 
It,  too,  is  carried  sometimes  to  a  degree  that  may  be  char- 
acterized as  morbid.  For  instance,  while  in  college  she 
was  the  recipient  of  a  scholarship ;  consequently  she  con- 
sidered it  her  duty,  in  return  for  this  benefit,  so  diligently 
to  apply  herself  to  her  studies  that  it  was  impossible  for 
teacher  or  physician  to  enforce  sufficient  recreation,  or 
even  the  rest  and  hygienic  measures  which  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  keep  what  little  health  she  had. 
,  Equally  embarrassing  from  a  therapeutic  point  of  view 
i  is  a  morbid  pride  which  makes  her  unwilling  to  be  the 
'  recipient  of  favors  or  attention  which  she  may  not  be 
able  to  repay.  The  other  selves  are  not  always  so  sensi- 
tive in  this  respect,  and  bitterly  has  Miss  Beauchamp  some- 
times suffered  when  she  has  come  to  herself  to  find  that 
she  has,  as  one  of  her  other  selves,  accepted  obligations 
distasteful  to  her  own  pride. 

A  love  of  truth  which  is  equally  marked  in  her  make- 
up, and  which  has  been  in  constant  conflict  with  the 
endeavor  to  conceal  her  mental  troubles,  has  led  to  much 
mental  perturbation.  To  be  frank  and  open,  and  yet  not 
to  "  give  away  "  the  fact  that  she  has  not  the  remotest 
idea,  at  moments  when  she  comes  to  hereelf,  of  how  she 
happens  to  be  in  a  given  situation,  or  what  her  interrogator 
is  talking  about,  or  even  who  he  is,  taxes  her  innate  sense 
of  truth,  though  it  has  developed  a  capacity  for  intellec- 
tual gymnastics  and  quick  inference  which  is  instructive. 
Her  power  in  any  one  of  the  three  characters  of  taking  in 
a  new  situation,  of  jumping  at  correct  inferences  of  what 
has  gone  before,  of  following  leads  without  betraying  her 
own  ignorance,  of  formulating  a  reply  which  allows  of  an 
interpretation  compatible  with  almost  any  set  of  condi- 
tions,—  her  ingenuity  in  these  directions  is  surprising; 
and  by  showing  what  can  be  done  by  shrewd  leads,  guesses 
and  deftly  worded  responses,  gives  one  an  inkling  as  to 



the  possible  origin  of  much  of  the  supposed  supernorm^ 
knowledge  of  mediums.-  In  the  case  of  Miss  Beauchamp 
this  is,  of  course,  compulsory  from  the  necessity  of  adapt- 
ing her  divided  personality  to  the  demands  of  social 

If  Miss  Beauchamp's  eye  should  peruse  this  paper,  per- 
haps she  will  overlook  the  personality  of  the  statement 
that  her  refinement  of  character  is  out  of  the  ordinary.  I 
do  not  mean  by  this  only  the  kind  of  refinement  which 
comes  from  social  education,  but  rather,  that  natural 
refinement  of  thought  and  feeling  which  is  inborn,  and 
which  is  largely  made  up  of  delicacy  of  sentiment  and 
appreciation  of  everything  that  is  fine  in  thought  and  per- 
ceptions. This  refinement  is  not  easy  to  analyze,  though 
readily  recognized,  and  would  not  be  mentioned  here, 
were  it  not  the  basis  of  other  peculiarities  of  her  character 
which  are  of  practical  moment.  It  is  largely  the  sponsor 
for  her  conscientiousness  and  honesty,  her  power  of  attract- 
ing friends,  and,  unfortunately,  probably  in  part  for  her 
neurasthenic  condition.  It  has  also  been  the  cause  of  no 
end  of  trouble  in  the  prosecution  of  this  study,  for  it  has 
led  to  her  unwillingness  to  "inflict,"  as  she  calls  it,  her 
personal  affairs  on  others,  and  to  her  reticence  about  her 
mental  life.  One  could  often  wish  she  were  less  sensitive, 
and  had  a  little  of  that  mental  and  moral  callousness  which 
does  not  shrink  from  opening  the  mind  to  psychological, 

In  ending  this  brief  account  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  char- 
acter, I  would  add,  she  is  well  educated  and  has  marked, 
literary  tastes  and  faculties.     She  is  essentially  a  biblio- 
phile, and  is  never  so   happy  as  when  allowed   to  delve 
amongst  books,  to  live  with  them  and  know  them. 

The  little  that  is  known  of  her  heredity  from  a  neuro- 
pathic point  of  view  is  suggestive  of  nervous  instability. 
Her  grandfather  on  her  father's  side  is  said  to  have  been  a 



man  of  violent  temper,  and  it  would  seem  without  balanced 
self-control.  Her  father  apparently  inherited  the  violent 
temper  of  her  grandfather.  He  and  her  mother  were 
unhappily  married. 

The  subject  of  tliis  stui?ly,was  a  nervous,  impressipnaljle 
/  child,  given  to,  day-dreaming  and  living  in  her  imagina- 
tion.    Her  mother  exhibited  a  great  dislike  to  her,  and  for 
no  reason,  apparently,  excepting  that  the  child  resembled 
her  father  in  looks.     The  general  impression  left  on  Miss 
Beauchamp's  mind  to-day  is  that  of  her  presence  having 
been  ignored  by  her  mother  excepting  on  occasions  of  a 
reprimand.     On  the  other  hand,  she  herself  idealized  her 
mother,  bestowing  upon  her  almost  morbid  affection ;  and 
believing  that  the  fault  was  her  own,  and  that  her  mother's 
lack  of  affection  was  due  to  her  own  imperfections,  she 
gave  herself  up  to  introspection,  and  concluded  that  if  she 
could  only  purify  herself  and  make  hereelf  worthy,  her 
\    mother's  affection  would  be  given  her.     The  effect  of  all 
)  this  upon  the  child  was  to  suppress  all  disclosures  of  her 
r       own  mental  life,  and  to  make  her  morbidly  reticent.     She 
never  gave  expression  to  the  ordinary  feelings  of  every- 
day child  life ;  never  spoke  to  say  that  she  was  tired,  hun- 
gry, or  sleepy.     She  lived  within  herself  and  dreamed. 
I     When  she  was  thirteen  her  mother  died.     This  was  a 
I  great  shock  to  her  mental   system,  and  for  a  number  of 
j  weeks  she  was  probably  half  delirious,  or,  as  we  would 
now  interpret  it,  disintegrated.     The  three  years  follow- 
ing her  mother's  death,  when  she  lived  with  her  father, 
were  a  period  of  successive  mental  shocks,  nervous  strains 
and   frights.      The    details   of   this    unhappy   period,  al- 
though of  great  importance  from  a  psychopathic  point  of 
view,  unfortunately  cannot  be  given,  as,  being  well  known 
to  neighbors  and  friends,  they  would  lead  to  the  identifi- 
cation of  the  subject.     It  is  unlikely  that  even  a  strong 
•v  constitution   would    withstand    the    continuous    nervous 


strain  and  depressing  emotional  influences  to  which  her 
whole  childhood  was  subjected.  At  sixteen  she  ran  away 
from  home,  and  thus  ended  this  hystero-genetic  period. 
At  a  later  period  anxieties  of  another  kind  succeeded  those 
of  her  youth. 

In  Miss  Beauchamp's  heredity  and  childhood,  then,  we 
find  ample  to  account  for  the  psychopathic  soil  which  has 
permitted  her  present  condition.  She  was  never  strong,  as 
a  child,  became  easily  tired,  and  suffered  from  headaches 
and  nightmares.  Attacks  of  somnambulism  also  occurred. 
On  one  occasion  when  about  fourteen  years  of  age  she 
walked  out  into  the  street  at  night  in  her  nightgown  and 
was  brought  home  by  a  policeman.  For  yeai-s  she  was  in 
the  habit,  from  time  to  time,  of  going  into  spontaneous 
trance-like  states,  lasting  a  few  minutes,  and  at  the  time 
when  she  first  came  under  observation  she  was  subject  to 
these  spells  (as  was  subsequently  learned),  although  they 
were  not  nearly  so  frequent  or  prolonged  as  formerly. 
For  insiajcice,.  one  day,  an  attack  came  on  while  she  was 
crossing,  the  Public  Gardens.  .  At  the  moment  she  was 
headed  for  Park  Square.  When  she  came  to  herself  she 
was  walking  in  an  opposite  direction,  in  a  different  part  of 
the  Gardens. 

As  a  child,  then,  the  subject  of  our  study  was  morbidly 
impressionable,  given  to  day-dreaming  and  unduly  under 
the  influence  of  her  emotions.  She  took  everything  in- 
tensely, lived  in  a  land  of  idealism,  and  saw  the  people  and 
the  world  about  her  not  as  they  were  but  as  they  were 
colored  by  her  imagination.  That  is  to  say,  she  saw  people 
through  her  own  ideas,  which  dominated  her  judgment,  and 
which  tended  to  be  insistent.  Even  as  a  child  she  appeared 
to  have  hallucinations,  or  at  any  rate  so  mixed  up  her  day- 
dreams and  imaginings  with  reality  that  she  did  not  have 
a  true  conception  of  her  environment. 

Such  a  person,  under  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  her 


girlhood,  surely  never  had  half  a  chance.  Her  very  differ- 
ences from  the  conventional  person  stamped  her  an  "  origi- 
nal," and  attracted  other  people  to  her.  Intellectually 
she  was  keen,  fond  of  books  and  study.  The  knowledge 
that  she  thus  acquired  being  colored  by  the  wealth  of  her 
imagination  gave  an  attraction  to  her  personality. 

About  1893  she  had  a  nervous  shock  which,  unfortu- 
nately, only  came  to  my  knowledge  long  after  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  fact  of  there  being  a  division  of  per- 
sonalities; unfortunately,  for  it  played  the  principal  role 
in  the  development  of  these  phenomena.  It  will  be 
described  in  its  proper  place. 

When  Miss  Beauchamp  first  came  under  my  professional 
care,  in  1898,  she  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  student  in  one 
of  our  New  England  colleges ;  she  was  twenty-three  yeara 
of  age  and  a  "  neurasthenic  "  of  an  extreme  type.  The 
most  salient  features  of  her  physical  condition  were  heady 
aches,  insomnia,  bodily  pains,  persistent  fatigue,  and  poor 
nutrition.  All  this  unfitted  her  for  any  work,  mental  or 
physical,  and  even  for  the  amount  of  exercise  that  ordinary 
rules  of  hygiene  required;  but  in  spite  of  her  disability 
nothing  could  dissuade  her  from  diligent  and,  in  fact, 
excessive  study  which  she  thought  it  her  duty  to  persist 
in.  My  notes  taken  at  this  time,  before  it  was  known  that 
there  was  any  division  of  personalities,  thus  describe  her 
general  condition: 

"  Is  a  pronounced  neurasthenic  of  extreme  type;  has  never 
been  able  to  pursue  steadily  any  occupation  in  consequence. 
Tried  three  times  to  do  professional  nursing  and  broke  down. 

Is  now  studying  at College ;    ambitious ;   good  student ; 

does  good  work,  but  always  ill ;  always  suffering.  Over-con- 
scientious and  mentally  and  morally  stubborn.  Is  very  ner- 
vous, and  different  parts  of  body  in  constant  motion.  General 
appearance  of  an  hysteric  ;  cannot  sit  still,  cannot  fix  her  eyes 
to  properly  test  field  of  vision ;  probably  slight  visual  limita- 


tion,  but  this  is  difficult  to  determine.    No  objective  anesthesia^ 
or  other  physical  stigmata. " 

At  this  time  Miss  Beauchamp  was  very  suggestible  and 
plainly  manifested  aboulia,  although  this  was  mistaken  by 
her  friends  and  at  first  by  myself,  to  speak  plainly,  for 
stubbornness  (which  was  one  of  her  traits),  or  at  least 
an  unwillingness  to  be  guided  by  the  advice  of  friends 
when  this  conflicted  with  her  prejudices.  ^YabouUa  .is, 
meant  an  inhibition  of  will  by  which  a  person  is  unable 
to  do  what  he  actually  wishes  to  do.^  There  was  also  a 
decided  limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  in  the 
sense  that  her  mind  at  certain  moments  was  strongly  ab- 
sorbed in  and  dominated  by  certain  particular  ide¥s.  She 
was  unable  to  correct  her  judgments  by  constant  reference 
to  and  comparison  with  collateral  facts,  which  is  always 
necessary  for  wise  conduct.  In  other  words,  she  tended 
to  be  lost  in  abstraction.  These  are  recognized  psychical 
stigmata  of  hysteria. 

It  was  said  in  the  beginning  that,  in  addition  to  her 
normal  self,  and  the  hypnotic  state  known  as  B  II,  Mis^ 
JBgailchamp JQiay  be  any  one  of  three  different  pereons,  who 
are  known  respectively  as  B  I,  B  III,  and  B  IV.  These 
numbers  were  originally  given  at  an  early  period  of  the 
study,  before  the  mental  states  were  identified,  and  when 
it  was  desirable  that  terms  should  be  used  \Vhich  were  not 
a  committal  to  any  hypothesis.  The  numbers  were  affixed 
to  the  personalities  as  they  were  chronologically  discov- 
ered. That  is  to  say,  when  Miss  Beauchamp  first  came 
under  observation  she  was  known  of  course  by  her  own 

1  In  typical  and  extreme  cases,  for  instance,  a  person  with  abonlia  may 
find  it  impossible  to  pick  up  somethipg  from  the  table,  or  to  rise  from  the 
chair,  though  strongly  desiring  to  do  so.  In  Miss  Beaucliamp's  case  I  have 
often  known  her  to  come  to  my  office  for  the  express  purpose  of  telling  some- 
thing important,  but  after  struggling  a  few  minutes  with  attempts  to  speak, 
to  utter  the  words  necessary,  and  finding  herself  unable,  she  would  give  it  up 
and  leave  without  accomplishing  or  even  explaining  her  errand. 


name.  Later,  when  she  was  hypnotized,  her  mental  state 
in  hypnosis  was  known  as  the  hypnotic  self.  Eveiything 
was  then  simple  enough,  for  we  had  to  do  only  with  a 
person  awake  and  hypnotized,  and  no  extended  nomencla- 
ture was  required.  Later,  when  another  mental  state  was 
discovered,  it  became  necessary  to  have  distinguishing 
terms ;  so  Miss  Beauchamp  was  called  B  I,  the  hypnotic 
state  B  II,  and  the  third  state  (at  first  thought  to  be  a 
second  hypnotic  state,  but  later  proved  to  be  a  personality) 
was  named  B  III.  Still  later, "a  fourth  state  developed 
and  was  termed  B  IV. 

B  I  was  known  as  Miss  Beauchamp. 

B  III  was  known  as  "Chris,"  in  distinction  from 
"Christine,"  the  Christian  name  of  Miss  Beauchamp.' 
Later,    Chris   took   the  name   of  Sally. 

B  IV  had  no  other  name,  although  Sally  dubbed  her 
"the  Idiot." 

Now  these  three  personalities  had  very  sharply  defined 
traits  which  gave  a  very  distinctive  individuality  to  each. 
One  might  say  that  each  represented  certain  characteristic 
elements  of  human  nature,  and  that  the  three  might  serve 
as  an  allegorical  picture  of  the  tendencies  of  man.  If 
this  were  not  a  serious  psychological  stud}',  I  might  feel 
tempted  to  entitle  this  volume  "  The  Saint,  The  Woman, 
and  The  Devil."  The  ..Salat,  the  typical  saint  of  litera- 
ture, is  B  I.  Her  character  may  fairly  be  said  without 
exaggeration  to  personify  those  traits  which  expounders  of 
various  religions,  whether  Christian,  Buddhist,  Shinto,  or 
Confucian,  have  held  up  as  the  ideals  to  be  attained  by 
human  nature.  To  her  mind  selfishness,  impatience,  rude- 
ness, uncharitableness,  a  failure  to  tell  the  truth  or  a  sup- 
pression of  half  the  truth  were  literally  sins,  and  their 
manifestation  wickedness,  to  be  cast  out  by  fasting,  vigils, 
and  prayer.  She  frequently  makes  allusion  to  such  sins 
in   her  letters.     B_iy,  is  the  Woman,  personifying  the 


frailties  of  temper,  self-concentratiou,  ambition.,  and,  gej|- 
intereat,__which  ordinarily  are  the  dominating  factors  of 
the  average  human  being.  Her  idea  in  life  is  to  accom- 
plish her  own  ends,  regardless  of  the  consequences  to 
others,  and  of  the  means  employed.  Sally  is  the  Devil, 
not  an  immoral  devil,  to  be  sure,  but  rather  a  mischievous 
imgj  one  of  that  kind  which  we  might  imagine  would  take 
pleasure  in  thwarting  the  aspirations  of  humanity.  To 
her  pranks  were  largely  due  the  moral  suffering  which 
B  I  endured,  the  social  difficulties  which  befell  B  IV, 
and  the  trials  and  tribulations  which  were  the  lot  of 

Not  the  least  interesting  of  the  curious  nervous  phe- 
nomena manifested,  are  the  different  degrees  of  health 
enjoyed  by  the  different  personalities.  One  would  imagine 
that  if  ill  health  were  always  based  on  physical  alterations, 
each  personality  must  have  the  same  ailments ;  but  such  is 
not  the  case.  The  person  known  as  B  I  has  the  poorest 
health ;  B  IV  is  more  robust,  and  is  capable  of  mental 
and  physical  exertion  without  ill  effects,  which  would  be  / 
beyond  the  powei-s  of  B  I;  while .BJ[IIJsja^ton^ej;to_g,P^ 
ache  or  pain.     She  does  not  know  what  illness  means.    '         | 

This  personality,  Sally,  like  the  others,  at  times  is  an 
alternating  personality.  But,  besides  this,  at  other  times 
it  is  a  group  of  dissociated  conscious  states,  which,  exist- 
ing simultaneously  with  the  primary  self,  whether  B  I  or 
B  IV,  is  technically  termed  a  subconsciousness, —  a  sub- 
conscious personality.  This  subconscious  personality  and 
the  waking  personality  together  represent  a  doubling  of 
the  mind.  But  this  doubling  exists  because  certain  mental 
states  have  been  dissociated  from  the  main  stream  of  con- 
sciousness and  have  acquired  a  more  or  less  independent 
existence,  and  formed  an  extra  mind.  As  a  result  of  long 
years  of  experience,  the  acquisition  of  long  chains  of 
memories,  this  second  stream  has  acquired  a  wide  field  of 




mental  life.     Nothing  of  this  life  is  known  to  the  main 
personal  stream  of  consciousness. 

The  theory  of  a  subconscious  self  will  be  discussed  in 
another  volume,  and  it  would  be  premature  to  enter  into 
the  question  here.  I  merely  wish  to  point  out  in  a  general 
way  that  by  a  subconscious  self  I  mean  simply  a  limited 
second,  coexisting,  extra  series  of  "thoughts,"  feelings, 
sensations,  etc.,  which  are  (largely)  differentiated  from 
those  of  the  normal  waking  mind  of  the  individual.  In 
abnormal  conditions  these  secondary  "  thoughts  "  may  be 
sufficiently  organized  to  have  a  perception  of  personality, 
in  which  case  they  may  be  regarded  as  constituting  a 
second  self.  Such  a  second  self  is  not  known  to  the  wak- 
ing self,  which  is  not  even  conscious  of  its  existence  (ex- 
cepting of  course  by  inference  from  acts).  B  III  was  such 
a  subconscious  self.  Whether  such  a  self,  or  any  of  the 
elemental  states  which  comprise  such  a  self  belongs  to  nor- 
mal minds,  or  occurs  only  under  abnormal  conditions,  is  a 
secondary  question  that  will  be  discussed  in  its  proper 
place.  But  the  question  of  what  part  subconscious  states 
play  in  normal  minds  is  one  of  the  most  pressing  problems 
of  psychology.  However  that  may  be  answered,  repeated 
observations  of  recent  years  by  different  students  of  these 
phenomena  have  shown  that  in  unstable  natures  the  mind 
may  be  disintegrated  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  a  doub- 
ling or  rather  a  multiplication  of  consciousness  and  to  form 
two,  three,  or  more  groups  of  subconscious  states,  which  at 
times  are  capable  of  considerable  independent  activity.  At 
times  when  excited  they  are  capable  of  being  stirred  into 
fury,  when  they  burst  forth  like  a  volcano,  fermenting  and 
boiling,  in  "crises"  of  a  pathological  character.  Such 
were  the  so-called  "demoniac  possessions"  of  the  middle 
ages,  and  such  are  the  hysterical  crises  of  modern  medicine. 
[Appendix  A.] 

In  this  account  I  shall  describe  with  great  detail  the' 


genesis  of  the  different  personalities  and  the  conditions 
under  which  they  originated,  in  order  that  the  entire  free- 
dom from  educational  and  artificial  influences,  such  as 
might  be  suspected  to  have  shaped  their  characters  and 
memories,  may  be  evident  and  put  beyond  question. 



IN  April,  1898,  inasmuch  as  Miss  Beauchamp  had  failed 
to  be  improved  by  the  conventional  methods  of  treat- 
ment, and  as  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  pursue  any 
vocation  in  the  condition  of  health  in  which  she  was  at 
the  time,  it  was  decided  to  try  hypnotic  suggestion.  I 
have  no  intention  of  going  into  this  aspect  of  the  case,  but 
I  transcribe  a  few  of  the  notes  made  at  the  time,  as  they 
show  the  extreme  suggestibility  of  the  subject,  and  make 
clear  the  beneficial  effects  which  were  obtained  by  this 
mode  of  treatment  By  suggestion  it  was  found  possible 
to  convert  a  condition  of  constant  physical  distress  into 
one  of  at  least  temporary  comfort.  If  this  means  proved 
ineffectual  to  remove  the  existing  instability  of  the  ner- 
vous system,  which  constantly  allowed  painful  reactions 
to  the  environment,  it  was  partly  because  of  a  primary 
faulty  organization,  but  more  particularly  because  of  the 
condition  of  psychological  disintegration  which  had  al- 
ready taken  place,  but  which  was  unsuspected.  There 
was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  first  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  psychologically  other  than  she  appeared  to  be,  a  whole 
person,  so  to  speak.  It  was  only  after  a  prolonged  study, 
which  justified  itself  scientifically,  that  the  secret  leaked 
out.  It  then  became  clear  that  a  permanent  cure  could 
come  about  only  as  a  result  of  a  synthesis  of  thejjisinte- 
grated  elements  of  personality.  Yet  it  was  something  to 
banish  pain  whenever  it  arose. 

Miss  Beauchamp  was  hypnotized  for  the  first  time  April 
6th.     She  went  at  once  into  deep  hypnosis,  followed  by 


amnesia  (total  loss  of  memory)  for  the  period  when  she 
was  in  hypnosis.  This  was  repeated  on  the  6th,  7th,  and 
8th,  appropriate  suggestions  being  given  each  time,  and 
was  always  followed  by  immediate  relief.    From  notebook  : 

April  8th.  "  Reports  slept  soundly  all  night  without  waking; 
ravenously  hungry  at  meals ;  has  felt  well ;  little  or  no  fatigue ; 
pain  returned  in  the  side,  while  in  church,  and  lasted  for  an 
hour ;  it  was  very  severe,  but  suddenly  ceased ;  no  pain  in  the 
morning  on  awaking,  but  has  now  some  headache  and  back- 
ache. Her  friends  comment  on  her  great  improvement  in 
health,  and  she  herself  is  astonished.  In  hypnosis  patient  said 
that  pain  in  side  was  caused  by  sermon,  which  made  her  think 
how  wicked  she  was  (etc.).     No  pain  from  walking." 

Api'il  9th.  "Reports  herself  remarkably  well;  has  walked 
about  all  day  —  out  and  about  since  9  a.  m.  ;  no  pain  in  side, 
no  headache  or  backache ;  slept  well ;  quiet ;  thinks  she  is  not 
nervous ;  feels  like  a  different  person  ;  remarks  that  she  '  can't 
understand  it,'  etc.,  etc.;  eats  well.  Patient  appears  like  a 
different  person:  that  is,  is  much  better." 

April  25th.  "  General  improvement  since  April  9th.  Is  be- 
coming stronger ;  occasional  pain  in  side,  but  not  nearly  so 
severe,  occasionally  brought  on  by  walking,  sometimes  by 
being  bothered ;  feels  stronger  and  better  than  for  years ;  has 
been  walking  about  two  miles  a  day,  formerly  not  more  than 
two  or  three  blocks ;  can  walk  a  mile  at  a  stretch  without  feel- 
ing more  than  reasonably  tired;  no  headache  to  speak  of  up  to 

It  has  always  been  easy  to  remove  from  time  to  time 
the  varying  bodily  discomforts  as  they  appeared,  although 
this  improvement  was  not  lasting.  These  somatic  symptoms 
have  a  psychological  interest  in  this  case,  for  it  has  been 
easy  to  demonstrate  that  they  are  not  based  on  underlying 
structural  changes,  but  are  by-products,  so  to  speak,  of 
emotional  states,  or  fatigue,  and  in  part  "association  phe- 



nomena,"  which  are  dragged  into  the  field  of  consciousness 
by  the  psychical  states  to  which  they  are  attached. 

Particular  emotional  states,  like  fear  or  anxiety,  or 
general  mental  distress,  have  the  tendency  to  disintegrate 
the  mental  organization  in  such  a  way  that  the  normal 
associations  become  severed  or  loosened.  Thus  it  happens 
that  a  mental  shock  like  that  of  an  accident,  or  an  alarm- 
ing piece  of  news,  produces  a  dissociation  of  the  mind, 
known  as  a  state  of  hysteria  or  "  traumatic  neurosis." 
Such  states  are  characterized  by  persisting  loss  of  sensa- 
tion, paralysis,  amnesia,  and  other  so-called  stigmata,  which 
are  now  recognized  to  be  manifestations  of  the  dissociation 
of  sensory,  motor,  and  other  images  from  the  main  stream  of 
consciousness.  A  doubling  of  consciousness  is  thus  brought 
about.  The  dissociated  images  may  still  be  capable  of 
functioning,  more  or  less  independently  of  the  waking 
consciousness;  and  when  they  do,  so-called  automatic 
phenomena  (hallucinations,  tics,  spasms,  contractures,  etc.) 
result.  Sometimes  the  mental  dissociation  produces  a 
complete  loss  of  memory  (amnesia)  for  long  periods  of  the 
subject's  life ;  when  this  is  the  case  we  have  the  funda- 
mental basis  for  alternating  personalities,  of  which  this 
study  will  offer  many  examples.  In  other  instances,  the 
disintegration  induced  by  the  emotion  results  less  in 
sharply  defined  somatic  disturbances  than  in  a  general 
loosening  of  the  mental  and  nervous  organization.  A 
general  neurasthenic  condition  then  results,  revealed  by 
all  sorts  of  perverted  reactions  to  the  environment  in 
the  form  of  pains,  fatigue,  vasomotor  disturbances,  etc. 
Finally,  when  the  neurasthenic  systems  have  been  re- 
peatedly awakened  by  an  emotion,  they  form  a  habit,  or 
what  I  have  termed  an  "  association  neurosis."  ^  It  then 
comes  about  that  (in  subjects  of  nervous  instability)  when, 
through  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  distressing  emotions  are 

1  Association  Neuroses;  Journ.of  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease,  May,  1891. 


awakened,  the  somatic  symptoms,  as  a  kind  of  tail  to  a 
mental  kite,  are  brought  into  the  field  of  consciousness. 
Fatigue  and  mental  strain  have  the  same  genetic  influence 
as  emotion. 

The  whole  history  of  the  Beauchamp  "  family  "  has  been 
like  that  of  a  person  who  has  been  exposed  to  an  almost 
daily  series  of  railroad  accidents  or  nervous  shocks.  Owing 
primarily  to  a  natural,  and  secondarily  to  a  still  greater 
acquired,  instability  of  nervous  organization,  the  contre- 
temps of  ordinary  life  have  acted  like  a  series  of  mild 
shocks,  resulting  in  little  traumatic  neuroses.^  The  im- 
mediate effects  have  been  removed  from  time  to  time  by 
suggestion  ;  but  the  original  fundamental  instability,  mag- 
nified a  hundred-fold  by  the  psychological  disintegration 
which  was  brought  about  by  a  mental  accident  of  recent 
date,  has  made  possible  a  frequent  repetition  of  such  shocks. 
Most  instructive  is  the  fact  that  with  the  complete  synthesis 
of  all  the  personalities  into  one,  with  the  reintegration  of 
the  shattered  mental  organization,  stability  becomes  re- 
established and  the  physical  health  becomes  normal.  With 
this  statement  the  therapeutic  aspect  of  the  case  will  be 
dismissed  for  the  present  from  further  discussion.^  ^ 

Miss  Beauchamp  has  already  been  described  as  a  very 
reserved  person.  She  never  drops  into  familiarity  of 
speech,  nor  does  she  invite  it.  Her  personality  is  one  that 
cannot  be  provoked  into  rudeness ;  rather  her  tendency  is 
to  bear  in  silence  what  othei-s  might  resent.  If  any  one  has 
done  ill  to  her  she  bears  it  in  resignation,  without  idea  of 
retaliation  by  word  or  deed.  Personal  dignity,  a  predom- 
inant characteristic,  never  lets  her  descend  into  the  vul- 
garisms which  oi-dinary,  though  refined,  people  may  be 
pardoned  for  falling  into  under  the  stress  of  petty  annoy- 

1  Disturbances  of  the  nervous  system  caused  by  accidents. 

2  In  Part  III,  Vol.  II,  the  neurasthenic  state,  inclnding  the  relation  of 
changes  in  physical  health  to  psychic  states  will  be  considered. 


ances.  This  I  mention  here,  that  the  differing  characteris- 
tics of  the  separate  personalities,  as  the  latter  are  devel- 
oped, may  be  appreciated.  With  me  and  with  those  who 
know  her  trouble,  she  has  a  depressed,  rather  weary,  ex- 
pression and  manner.  Her  voice,  too,  is  strongly  indica- 
tive of  this  frame  of  mind;  but  I  am  told  that  with 
strangers  who  know  nothing  of  her  infirmity  she  is  more 
buoyant  and  light-hearted. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  satisfactorily  this  Miss  Beau- 
champ  in  hypnosis  ;  at  least  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  one 
who  is  not  familiar  with  hypnosis  an  intelligible  under- 
standing of  her  in  this  state.  In  essential  characteristics 
she  1  is  not  very  different  from  hei"self  awake,  except  as 
any  one  in  hypnosis  differs  from  the  waking  self.  If  I 
said  that  she  is  herself  intensified,  but  without  the  artifi- 
cial reserve  with  which  she  ordinarily  surrounds  herself  as 
a  protection  to  her  life,  it  would  give  the  best  idea  of  her. 
In  manner,  her  air  of  sadness  and  weariness  is  accentuated, 
and  her  tastes  and  desires  are  the  same ;  but  she  does  not 
hesitate  to  give  freely  information  which  it  is  essential  for 
her  well-being  should  be  known,  and  to  ask  for  aid  that 
will  protect  her  even  from  herself.  In  the  waking  state, 
as  Miss  Beauchamp,  she  desires  to  give  the  same  informa- 
tion and  she  often  longs  to  make  the  same  request,  but  is 
as  often  held  back  by  that  intense  shrinking  from  talking 
about  herself  which  has  already  been  mentioned.  So  pro- 
hibitive has  been  this  reserve  that  it  has  been  difficult  to 
obtain  from  her  while  awake,  as  B  I,  a  reasonable  amount 
of  information  regarding  her  infirmity.  This  amounts  at 
times  to  an  actual  aboulia.  I  doubt  if  the  hypnotic  self 
could  be  made  to  do  what  she  in  her  waking  state  would 
morally  object  to.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  far-fetched  to  say, 
metaphorically,  that  the  hypnotic  self  is  the  soul  of  Miss 

I  This  state,  being  B  I  hypnotized,  was  later  rechristened  B  la,  and  the 
term  B  II  waa  given  to  another  state  with  quite  different  characteristics. 


Beauchamp  freed  from  the  artificial  restraints  of  conven- 

The  hypnotic  self,  then,  let  it  be  borne  in  mind,  is  dis- 
tinctly the  same  personality  as  Miss  Beauchamp  awake. 
She  speaks  of  herself  as  the  same  person,  making  no  dis- 
tinction whatsoever,  except  that  she  is  now  "  asleep,"  or 
what  "  you  call  asleep."  On  the  other  hand,  when  awake, 
as  already  stated  in  the  introduction,  she  has  no  knowledge 
or  remembrance  of  herself  in  the  hypnotic  state.  On 
awaking  there  is  complete  oblivion  of  everything  said  and 
done  in  hypnosis.  There  is  also  a  large  degree  of  passive- 
ness  in  the  hypnotic  self.  She  sits  with  her  eyes  closed 
(never  having  been  allowed  to  open  them),  and  though  she 
converses,  and  even  sometimes  argues  and  defends  her 
own  views,  she  tends  to  passiveness,  like  most  subjects  in 

Up  to  this  time  the  only  personality  with  which  I  was 
acquainted,  and  the  only  one  known  to  her  friends,  was 
the  Miss  Beauchamp  whom  I  have  just  described  as  B  I.  But 
there  now  appeared  upon  the  scene  a  new  character,  who 
was  destined  to  play  the  leading  role  in  the  family  drama 
that  was  enacted  during  a  period  of  six  years.  This  char- 
acter at  first  appeared  to  be  a  second  hypnotic  state,  but 
later  proved  a  veritable  personality,  with  an  individuality 
that  was  fascinatingly  interesting  to  watch ;  she  largely 
determined  the  dramatic  situations,  and  consequently  the 
health,  happiness,  and  fortunes  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  She 
became  known  successively  as  B  III,  Chris,  and  finally  as 
SaUy,  according  as  acquaintance  with  her  grew.  The  way 
this  character  first  made  herself  known  I  shall  let  a  r^sum^ 
of  my  notes,  which  were  made  at  the  time,  tell. 

One  day  in  April,  1898,  while  in  hypnosis.  Miss  Beau- 
champ surprised  me  by  denying  having  made  certain 
statements  which  she  made  during  the  previous  state  of 
hypnosis,  and  then  again  later  when  hypnotized,  admitting 


freely,  without  reserve,  what  she  had  previously  denied. 
She  thus  alternately  denied  and  admitted  the  same  facts. 
The  statements  themselves  were  not  matters  of  impor- 
tance, but  the  denials  of  her  own  plain  statements  were 
puzzKng.  Being  on  my  guard,  my  first  suspicion  of 
course  was  of  an  attempt  at  deception,  but  on  a  repetition 
of  this  experience  her  honesty  became  plainly  beyond 
question.  The  solution  was  not  long  in  coming.  On  one 
of  the  following  occasions  I  was  startled  to  hear  her,  when 
hypnotized,  speak  of  herself  in  her  waking  state  as  "  She." 
Previously,  as  already  stated,  she  had  always  used  the  first 
person,  "  I,"  indifferently  for  herself,  whether  awake  or 
asleep  in  hypnosis.  She  had  never  made  any  distinction 
whatever  as  to  personalities,  or  suggested  any  difference 
between  herself  while  awake  and  while  in  hypnosis ;  nor 
had  I  made  any  such  suggestions,  or  even  thought  of  the 
matter.  I  had  regarded  the  hypnotic  self  simply  as  Miss 
Beauchamp  asleep.  But  now  the  hypnotic  self,  for  the 
first  time,  used  the  pronoun  "  She,"  in  speaking  of  her 
waking  self,  as  if  of  a  third  person ;  but  used  "  I,"  of  her- 
self in  hypnosis.  The  tone,  address,  and  manner  were  also 
very  different  from  what  they  had  been.  As  bearing  on 
the  question  of  the  possible  unconscious  education  of  the 
subject  on  the  part  of  the  experimenter,  I  may  say  here 
that  my  experience  of  this  case  entirely  contradicted  the 
view  that  I  had  held  up  to  this  time.  i^^My  conviction  had 
been  growing  that  so-called  personalities,  when  developed 
through  hypnotism^  as  distinct  from  the  spontaneous  va- 
riety, were  purely  artificial  creations,  —  sort  of  unspoken 
and  unconscious  mutual  understandings  between  the  ex- 
perimenter and  the  subject,  by  which  the  subject  accepted 
certain  ideas  unwittingly  suggested  by  the  experimenter. 
But  in  opposition  to  this  view  the  personality  known  as 
B  III,  or  Chris,  which  first  made  its  appearance  during  hyp- 
nosis, came  as  a  surprise  to  me  ;  and  so  far  from  being  the 


product  of  suggestion,  originated  and  persisted  against  my 
protests  and  in  spite  of  my  scepticism.  \  In  view,  there- 
fore, of  my  own  lack  of  preparedness,  this  complete  change 
of  attitude  of  the  hypnotic  self  is  noteworthy.  I  hastened 
to  follow  up  the  lead  offered  and  asked,  as  if  in  ignorance 
of  her  meaning,  who  "  She  "  was.  The  hypnotic  self  was 
unable  to  give  a  satisfactory  reply. 

"  You  are  '  She,'  "  I  said. 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

"  I  say  you  are." 

Again  a  denial. 

Feeling  at  the  time  that  this  distinction  was  artificial,  and 
that  the  hypnotic  self  was  making  it  for  a  purpose,  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  such  an  artifact  should  not  be  allowed  to 
develop.  I  pursued  her  relentlessly  in  my  numerous  ex- 
aminations, treated  the  idea  as  nonsense,  and  refused  to 
accept  it,  but  with  what  success  will  be  noted. 

Finally : 

"  Why  are  you  not  «  She  '  ?  " 

"Because  'She'  does  not  know  the  same  things  that  I 

"  But  you  both  have  the  same  arms  and  legs,  have  n't 


"  Yes,  but  arms  and  legs  do  not  make  us  the  same."  f  I 

"Well,    if  you   are   different   persons,  what   are   your 



Here  she  was  puzzled,  for  she  evidently  saw  that,  accord- 
ing to  her  notion,  if  the  hypnotic  self  that  was  talking  with 
me  was  Miss  Beauchamp,  the  waking  self  was  not  Miss 
Beauchamp,  and  vice  versa.  She  appeared  to  be  between 
the  horns  of  a  dilemma,  was  evasive,  unable  to  answer,  and 
made  every  effort  not  to  commit  herself.  On  another  occa- 
sion, in  answer  to  the  question  why  she  (the  apparently 
hypnotic  state)  insisted  that  Miss  Beauchamp  in  her  wak- 
ing state  was  a  different  peraon  from  herself  at  that  mo- 


ment,  the  contemptuous  reply  was :  "  Because  she  is  stupid ; 
she  goes  round  mooning,  half  asleep,  with  her  head  buried 
in  a  book ;  she  does  not  know  half  the  time  wliat  she  is 
about.  She  does  not  know  how  to  take  care  of  herself." 
The  contemptuous  tone  in  which  she  spoke  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ  (awake)  was  striking,  and  her  whole  manner  was 
very  different  from  what  it  formerly  had  been  when  hypno- 
tized. The  weary,  resigned,  attitude  was  gone ;  she  was 
bold,  self-assertive,  unwilling  to  accept  suggestions,  and 
anything  but  passive.  A  few  days  after  this,  when  hyp- 
notized, sill  became  changed  again ;  tlie  former  hypnotic 
manner  returned. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  Miss  Beauchamp." 

Then,  after  a  number  of  questions  on  another  point : 

"  Listen  :  now  you  say  you  are  Miss  Beauchamp." 


"  Then  why  did  you  say  you  were  not  Miss  Beauchamp  ?  " 

[Surprised.]  "  Why,  I  never  said  so." 

"  The  last  time  we  talked  you  said  you  were  not  Miss 

"  You  are  mistaken.  I  did  not.  I  said  nothing  of  the 

"  Yes,  you  did." 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  know  who  you  are  ?  " 

"Yes,  Miss  Beauchamp." 

"  Exactly.  You  have  got  over  that  idea  of  being  differ- 
ent from  other  peraons,  —  that  there  is  a  '  She  '  ?  " 

[Surprised  and  puzzled.]  "  What  *  she  '  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  you  mean." 

"  Yes,  you  do." 

"No,  unless  you  mean  Rider  Haggard's  'She.'" 

"  You  used  to  tell  me  that  you  were  not  Miss  Beauchamp." 


« I  did  not." 

"That  when  you  were  awake  you  were  a  different 

[Remonstrating  and  astounded.]  "  Dr.  Prince,  I  did  not 
say  so." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  anything.  I  told  you  about  my  back 
and  shoulders."  [Referring  to  an  experiment  tried  to 
produce  a  blister  by  a  suggestion  given  to  the  hypnotic 

Repeated  experiences  of  this  kind  made  it  plain  that  Miss 
Beauchamp  when  hypnotized  fell  into  one  or  the  other  of 
two  distinct  mental  states,  or  selves,  whose  relations  to  the 
primary  waking  consciousness,  as  well  as  their  memories, 
were  strikingly  different.  From  the  very  first  they  claimed 
different  relations  with  the  waking  Miss  Beauchamp.  The 
first  hypnotic  self  either  definitely  sfcited  she  was  Miss 
Beauchamp  asleep,  or  accepted  that  idea,  as  a  technical 
expression,  without  objection ;  though  she  apparently  rec- 
ognized the  paradox  conveyed  in  the  idea  of  a  sleeping 
person  talking.  Still  she  regarded  herself  most  distinctly 
as  Miss  Beauchamp,  though  not  awake.  For  the  sake  of 
convenience  at  this  early  stage,  to  distinguish  the  different 
selves,  this  hypnotic  self  was  noted  as  B  II,  in  distinction 
from  the  waking  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  was  now  labelled 
for  the  first  time  B  I.  In  contrast  with  this  attitude  of 
B  II,  the  second  hypnotic  self,  who  was  correspondingly 
named  B  III,  refused  from  the  very  first  to  accept  the  idea 
of  being  asleep  or  being  Miss  Beauchamp  asleep.  She  in- 
sisted she  was  wide  awake,  and  resented  in  a  way  foreign 
to  either  B  I  or  B  II  every  attempt  on  my  part  to  make 
her  appear  illogical  in  claiming  to  be  a  different  person. 

It  may  be  well  to  repeat  that  B  I's  name  was  Christine. 
Desiring  to  have  some  distinctive  term  of  address  for  B 
III,  I  gave  her  the  name  of  Chris.      Later,  of  her  own 


volition,  she  adopted  the  name  Sally  Beauchamp,  taking  it, 
I  think,  from  a  character  in  some  book. 

The  following  notes  of  the  interview  of  Apiil  30  make 
evident  the  distinction  between  the  hj'pnotic  states  : 

April  SO.  "  Patient  has  not  been  here  since  April  25th, 
when  Miss  Beauehamp  had  apparently  lost  her  second  per- 
sonality ;  that  is  to  say,  she  did  not  know  in  hypnosis  who 
'  She '  was,  and  denied  all  knowledge  as  claimed  by  B  III  of 
any  other  person  than  hei'self,  and  had  no  recollection  of  her 
previous  statement  as  B  III.  It  appeared  as  if  the  second 
phase  of  hypnosis  had  disappeared.  To-day  patient  returned, 
stating  that  she  has  been  unable  to  come  before  because  of  ill- 
ness ;  has  had  a  return  of  old  symptoms,  etc.  Remarks  that 
she  has  been  unable  to  read  or  fix  her  mind  on  a  book.  To- 
day is  much  better.  Thinks  the  cause  of  her  relapse  was 
catching  cold,  and  possibly  the  effect  of  the  sermon  the  pre- 
vious Sunday.  [This  sermon  had  been  the  subject  of  consider- 
able discussion  between  B  II  and  myself  at  the  previous  visit.] 
Miss  Beauehamp  is  now  hypnotized  and  becomes,  as  at  the  last 
sitting,  B  II,  the  first  hypnotic  self.  She  makes  the  same 
statement  as  to  the  cause  of  her  relapse  as  did  B  I.  In  re- 
sponse to  inquiries  she  goes  on  to  state  that  her  name  is/ Miss 
Beauehamp.'  [Her  manner  at  this  early  stage  used  to  indicate 
great  surprise  that  I  should  ask  her  name,  as  if  both  of  us  did 
not  know.]  She  does  not  know  anything  about  any  other  per- 
son, and  expresses  some  annoyance  at  being  told  that  she^  has 
stated  that  there  is  another.  (This  talk  about  a  '  she '  evi- 
dently troubles  her,  as  it  did  at  the  last  interview,  and  is  some- 
thing she  cannot  understand.  I  take  pains  not  to  explain 
anything,  only  asking  her  such  questions  as  will  test  her  mem- 
ory, leaving  her  in  the  dark  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  questions 
and  the  existence  of  the  other  hypnotic  self.)  [Both  B  I  and 
B  II  were  kept  in  ignorance  of  B  III  for  a  long  time.] 

"  Patient  now,  without  being  first  waked  up,  is  more  deeply 
hypnotized  by  command.  She  goes  into  an  apparently  deeper 
trance.    At  once  her  whole  manner  changes.     She  begins  to 

1  Tliat  18,  in  testing  her  memory  (or  what  had  been  said  by  B  IIL 


stutter,  and  again  speaks  of  herself  as  being  a  different  person 
from  Miss  Beauehamp,  whom  as  before  she  refers  to  as  '  She ' 
and  '  Her.'  Explains  that  the  cause  of  her  illness  was  partly 
the  effect  of  the  sermon  (referred  to  by  B  I),  and  partly  due 
to  the  fact  that  '  the  person  in  black '  (my  secretary,  who  was 
taking  stenographic  notes)  was  in  the  room,  and  partly  to  the 
fact  that  I  had  bothered  '  Her '  (i.  e. ,  B  II)  at  the  previous  sit- 
ting by  troubling  '  Her '  with  all  sorts  of  questions  which  '  She ' 
did  not  understand.^  B  II,  she  asserts,  does  not  know  anything 
of  the  present  person  talking,  and  when  I  kept  asking  '  Her ' 
questions  concerning  things  '  She '  did  not  know  anything  about, 
it  upset  '  Her'  very  much.  It  also  troubled  '  Her'  (i.  e.,  B  I) 
having  in  the  room  some  one  to  whom  '  She  '  was  afraid  '  She  ' 
would  expose  '  Her '  thoughts,  having  been  told  by  me  that 
'  She '  talked  in  hypnosis.  All  these  things  conspu-ed  to  upset 
'  Her ; '  hence  '  Her '  illness  of  the  past  week." 

It  should  be  noticed  that  in  this  explanation  the  third 
self  also  did  not  make  any  distinction  between  Miss  Beau- 
champ  and  B  II ;  but  spoke  of  Miss  Beauehamp  as  being 
upset  by  my  questions,  although  the  disturbing  questions 
had  been  put  to  Miss  Beauehamp  in  hypnosis.  Yet,  again, 
it  was  when  awake  that  she  dreaded  being  hypnotized  with 
a  stranger  in  the  room.  More  important  is  the  fact  that 
B  III  showed  a  complete  knowledge  of  all  that  was  said  to 
B  II,  —  in  fact,  knew  all  about  B  II.  She  showed  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  the  conversation  in  which  B  II  was 
accused  by  me  of  having  made  the  claim  that  she  was  a 
distinct  person  from  "She,"  and  she  professed  at  least  a 
knowledge  of  her  inmost  thoughts  and  feelings.  And  so  it 
was  at  every  interview. 

As  a  test  of  the  memories  of  B  II  and  B  III,  I  was  in 
the  habit  at  each  interview  of  asking  each  to  repeat  certain 
parts  of  a  previous  conversation,  and  to  describe  what  had 
occurred  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  interview,  or  during 
the  previous  interview,  including  insignificant  details  of 
1  That  is,  as  if  B  II  and  B  III  were  one  and  the  same  person. 


my  actions,  etc.  Miss  Beauchamp  never  had  any  memory 
of  what  happened  while  she  was  Chris,  any  more  than  while 
she  was  B  II.  That  was  plain  enough.  Miss  Beauchamp 
knew  nothing  of  the  other  two.  The  hypnotic  self,  B  II, 
on  the  other  hand,  remembered  everything  that  she,  B  II, 
said  during  the  preceding  times  when  she  had  been  in 
existence,  and  also  everything  about  Miss  Beauchamp's 
life.  She  would  give  at  each  visit  an  accurate  account 
of  everything  that  happened  when  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
awake,  whether  in  my  presence  or  at  her  own  home.  She 
would  repeat  my  convereation  mth  Miss  Beauchamp,  what 
I  did  when  Miss  Beauchamp  was  in  the  room,  and  so  on, 
ad  infinitum.  She  was  plainly  the  "hypnotic  self."  But 
she  was  in  entire  ignorance  of  the  new  self,  Chris  (B  III). 
She  always  denied  any  knowledge  of  what  she  had  said  in 
this  new  state,  nor  could  I  ever  trip  her  up,  though  I  set 
many  traps.  For  instance,  at  the  close  of  the  last  inter- 
view, just  referred  to,  the  new  hypnotic  self,  Chris,  volun- 
teered to  give  some  information  on  a  matter  connected  with 
Miss  Beauchamp's  affaire,  but  did  not  complete  it.  This 
was  the  last  thing  that  she  said  before  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  awakened.  At  the  next  interview  I  qiljestioned  B  II 
as  to  what  it  was  she  was  going  to  tell  me,  as  if  it  were 
she  and  not  the  new  self,  Chris,  with  whom  I  had  been 

"  Do  you  remember  the  last  thing  5'^ou  said  yesterday  ? 
You  were  going  to  tell  me  something." 

"  Going  to  tell  you  something  ?    No,  I  was  not." 

*'  Yes,  you  were." 

"  No,  I  am  sure.     I  do  not  remember  anything." 

Later  in  the  couree  of  this  same  interview  Chris  was 
obtained.     The  same  questions  were  put  to  her. 

"  Yesterday  you  were  going  to  tell  me  something.  What 
was  it?" 

Chris  at  once  showed  complete  knowledge  of  the  conver- 


sation  and  continued  what  she  had  begun  at  the  interview 
in  question.  Thus  it  was  shown  that  B  II  could  give  ver- 
batim my  conversation  with  herself  and  with  B  I,  but 
nothing  of  that  with  B  III.  But  B  III  could  repeat 
that  with  all  three  selves ;  and  so  it  was  correspondingly 
with  what  was  done  at  those  times.  So  B  III  knew  both 
B  I  and  B  II,  although  B  I  and  B  II  knew  nothing  of 
B  III. 

This  relationship  may  be  expressed  by  the  following 
diagram,  the  arrow  indicating  the  direction  of  knowledge  : 

^  B  I  (a  personality) 
Chris,  B  III    ^     I 

(a  personaUty)  -~*    3  n  (^^ter  known  as  B  la,  a  hypnotic 


Of  course  Chris's  memory  was  continuous  for  the  times 
of  her  own  previous  existence  ;  that  is,  for  the  times  when. 
Miss  Beauchamp  having  been  put  to  sleep,  Chris  was 
present  as  an  alternating  personality.  As  to  her  knowl- 
edge of  Miss  Beauchamp,  besides  her  familiarity  with  out- 
ward circumstances,  she  could  describe  the  latter's  inmost 
thoughts  and  feelings,  her  moods  and  her  emotions,  as  after- 
waids  was  verified  over  and  over  again.  The  marked  in- 
dividuality of  Chiis's  character,  her  insistence  upon  herself 
being  a  separate  personality,  the  wideness  of  her  knowl- 
edge, and  various  other  even  more  important  peculiarities 
which  later  became  known  made  her  an  interesting  study. 
Although  she  first  disclosed  her  existence  through  the 
hypnotizing  process,  she  proved  to  be  no  ordinary  hypnotic 
self,  but  a  veritable  personality  which  also  exhibited  itself 
at  times  as  an  organized  subconsciousness. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  when  the  change  to 
Chris  took  place  was  the  sudden  alteration  of  character, 
which  was  almost  dramatic.     It  was  amazing  to  see  the 


sad,  anxious,  passive  B  II  suddenly  become  transformed 
into  a  new  personality,  stuttering  abominably,  and  exhibit- 
ing a  lively  vivacity,  boldness,  and  saucy  deviltry,  difficult 
to  describe. 

No  longer  sad,  but  gay  and  reckless,  she  resented  any 
attempt  to  control  her.  For  example  :  therapeutic  sugges- 
tions given  to  B  II  were  accepted  with  docility,  but  when 
they  were  tried  on  this  new  hj-pnotic  self  they  were  met 
at  once  by  opposition.  "  You  th-th-think  you  c-c-c-can 
c-c-control  me,"  she  stuttered,  "  b-b-because  you  c-c-control 
'  her.'  You  c-c-can't  d-d-do  it.  I  shall  d-d-do  as  I  p-p- 
please,"  etc.,  etc.^ 

Finding  that  this  tack  would  not  work,  another  was  tried. 

"  I  want  your  co-operation  to  help  me  get  Miss  Beau- 
champ  well.     Will  you  help  me?  " 

"  Now  that  is  a  different  kind  of  talk,"  she  replied,  molli- 
fied, though  still  stuttering. 

Rebelliousness  and  above  all  sauciness  like  this  was 
something  entirely  foreign  to  Miss  Beauchamp's  character. 
It  was  clear  that  there  were  three  different  selves,  or  at 
least  three  different  mental  states. 

Some  idea  of  the  memories  and  characteristics  of  the 
different  selves  may  be  had  from  the  following  exti-act  from 
the  notes  of  the  next  interview,  May  1.  It  was  not  easy 
to  exactly  transcribe  the  language,  and  above  all  to  repre- 
sent the  tone  and  mannerism  of  each.  It  was  found  that 
the  presence  of  a  stranger  in  the  room  was  so  disturbing 
to  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  naturally  feared  lest  she  should 
betray  her  private  affairs,  that  it  was  necessary  to  give  up 
the  plan  of  taking  stenographic  notes.     The  difficulty  of 

^  Chris,  when  she  first  appeared  on  the  scene,  stuttered  badly.  Later  this 
difficulty  disappeared,  but  in  tlie  early  days  of  her  career  it  was  obtrusivrf 
Sometimes  she  would  remain  silent  on  account  of  it,  especially  at  the  first 
moment  of  her  appearance.  She  also  used  to  keep  her  arms  and  hands  in 
motion  in  a  nervous  way.  It  was  as  if  she  had  not  yet  learned  to  co-ordinate 
her  newly  acquired  muscles,  and  had  general  ataxia  in  consequence.  This 
too  disappeared  later. 


taking  down  verbatim,  in  longhand,  a  rapidly  held  conver- 
sation necessarily  obliged  a  condensation  of  sentences,  so 
that  the  style  is  not  fairly  represented  in  these  notes,  but 
the  accuracy  of  the  facts  as  brought  out  may  be  insisted 
upon.  On  May  1,  the  ground  of  April  30th  was  gone  over 
again  as  follows : 

After  hearing  the  report  from  Miss  Beauchamp  and 
questioning  her  on  various  matters,  she  was  hypnotized, 
becoming  pLainly  B  II. 

Q.   "  How  has  Miss  Beauchamp  been  doing  ?  " 

A.  [Changing  the  question  to  the  first  person.]  "  How 
have  I  been  doing  ?     I  have  been  doing  very  well  ?  " 

Q.   "  How  has  '  she '  been  doing  ?  " 

A.   "'She'?    Who?"  . 

Q.   "  Don't  you  know  who  '  she  '  is  ?  " 

A.   "  You  did  not  say." 

Q.    "  Don't  you  know  ?  " 

A.  "Do  you  mean  Miss  K.  ?  No,  I  do  not  know  whom 
you  mean." 

B  II  kept  rubbing  her  eyes.  She  would  not  recognize 
the  existence  of  any  other  personality  than  herself,  nor 
could  I  get  her  to  betray  any  knowledge  of  having,  as 
Chris,  referred  to  a  "  she." 

Q.  "  Have  you  been  going  to  sleep  this  past  week  during 
the  daytime?"  [Referring  to  spontaneous  trances  that 
had  occurred.] 

A.   "No." 

Q.   "  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

A.  "Yes." 

Q.   "  Have  you  been  reading  ?  " 

A.   "No." 

Q.  "Why?" 

A.   "  I  can't." 

Q.   "  Why  can't  you  ?     Have  you  been  trying  ?  " 

A.   "Yes." 


Q.   "  What  prevents  you  ?  " 

A.   "Nothing." 

Q.  "  Do  you  mean  you  can't  fix  your  mind  ?  "  [As  al- 
ready stated  by  her  when  awake  as  Miss  Beauchamp  at 
the  interview  of  the  previous  day  :  page  30.] 

A.  "  Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean.  I  can't  read  —  can't  fix 
my  mind  at  all." 

Q.   "  What  happens  ?  " 

A.  "  I  begin  thinking  of  all  sorts  of  things  the  minute 
I  try  to  read.  Sometimes  I  throw  the  book  down  on  a 
chair  or  table.  I  throw  it  down  hard  and  closed  after  try- 
ing to  read."     [Illustrates  at  my  request] 

Q.  "  Have  you  ever  been  so  before  this  past  week  ?  " 

A.   "  No,  never." 

When  pressed  for  an  explanation  of  her  unusual  action 
her  answer  was  characteristic  of  subjects  exhibiting  phe- 
nomena which  they  cannot  explain :  "  People  do  not 
always  have  a  reason  for  everything  they  do."  This  ap- 
parently simple  action  had  more  significance  than  would 
appear  on  the  surface.  Though  not  open  to  absolute  proof, 
it  is  morally  certain  that  it  was  an  example  of  a  suggested 
post-hypnotic  phenomenon  and  the  prelude  to  many  similar 
exhibitions  which  I  actually  observed.  For  the  benefit  of 
the  uninitiated  it  may  be  explained  that  in  suitable  sub- 
jects if  a  suggestion  is  given  in  hypnosis  that  a  certain 
action  be  performed  later  after  waking,  the  subject 
will,  at  the  appointed  time,  carry  out  the  suggested 
idea ;  or  perhaps  more  correctly,  the  suggested  idea  will 
complete  itself  without  the  subject  knowing  why  he  does 
the  action,  which  sometimes  is  performed  in  an  absent- 
minded  way  without  his  even  knowing  he  has  done  it. 
Sometimes  the  subject  enters  a  semi-hypnotic  sUite  at  the 
moment  of  carrying  out  the  command.^ 

1  The  following  is  an  amusing  example  of  this  well  known  phenomenon.  I 
told  a  subject,  Mrs.  K.,  in  hypuosis,  to  put  ou  her  bonnet  ami  wear  it  during 


When  Miss  Beauchamp,  as  she  and  B  II  reported, 
found  herself  unable  to  read  and  threw  down  the  book, 
she  carried  out  a  command  that  I  had  given  for  therapeu- 
tic purposes  to  Chris,  unknown  to  the  other  selves.  I  had 
told  Chris,  rather  carelessly,  that  she  was  to  prevent  Miss 
B.  from  reading,  without  suggesting  how  the  thing  was  to 
be  accomplished.  Chris,  who  later  explained  the  phenom- 
enon at  length,  claimed  to  have  been  the  author  of  this 
automatic  action  on  Miss  B.'s  part,  and  to  have  taken 
this  drastic  method  of  carrying  out  my  suggestion,  thereby 
showing  considerable  subconscious  independence,  and,  I 
think,  logical  reasoning.  It  is  worth  noting  how  sharply 
differentiated  were  the  volitions  of  the  two  personalities  at 
this  early  date.  Later,  I  personally  witnessed  similar  phe- 
nomena on  numerous  occasions.  It  may  be  here  stated 
that  though  often,  for  the  purposes  of  a  continuous  narra- 
tive, phenomena  are  noted  as  having  occurred,  on  the 
strength  of  the  statements  of  the  subject,  these,  when  im- 
portant, were  accepted  only  after  searching  inquiry ;  and 
secondly,  examples  of  every  phenomenon  described  have 
been  personally  witnessed,  at  one  time  or  another,  over  and 
over  again. 

To  resume :  B  II  [hearing  the  scratching  of  my  pencil 
taking  notes].    "  What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

dinner  the  next  day.  She  had  no  recollection  on  awaking  of  the  command. 
Mrs.  R.  thus  described  what  occurred  :  "  As  I  was  going  in  to  dinner,  my 
girl  asked  me  what  I  was  going  out  for.  *  I  am  not,'  says  I ;  'I  am  going  to 
eat  my  dinner.'  '  Then  what  have  you  got  your  hat  on  for,'  says  she.  I  put 
my  hand  to  ray  head  and  there  was  my  bonnet.  '  Lord,  Mamie,'  says  I,  '  am  I 
going  crazy?  '  '  No,  mother,'  she  says,  '  you  often  do  foolish  things.'  I  began 
to  get  frightened,  but  took  off  my  bonnet  and  went  into  the  next  room  to  din- 
ner." There  the  younger  child  similarly  asked  her  where  she  was  going, 
and  called  attention  to  her  having  her  bonnet  on.  She  again  took  it  off ; 
later  when  her  husband  entered,  the  same  thing  was  repeated  ;  but  when  she 
found  her  bonnet  on  her  head  for  the  third  time  she  made  an  excuse  of  the 
stormy  words  that  ensued  to  declare  that  she  would  "  keep  it  on  till  she  was 
through  dinner."  After  dinner,  being  alarmed,  she  consulted  a  neighbor 
about  it.  (For  further  observations  on  the  case  of  Mrs.  R.  and  others,  see 
"  Boston  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal,"  May  15,  1890.) 



Q.   "What  do  you  think?" 

A.  "  You  are  scratching  something,  so  — "  [Illustrat- 
ing.]    "What  is  it?" 

Q.   "  Don't  you  know  what  I  am  doing  ?  " 

A.   "  No,  I  don't  know." 

Q.   "  Are  you  awake  or  asleep  ?  " 

A.  [Evidently  puzzled.]  "  I  can  hear  what  you  say 
and  I  can  talk,  but  I  can't  see  you."     [Her  eyes  are  closed.] 

Q.   "  What  do  you  infer  from  this?  " 

A.  [Evidently  puzzled  —  does  not  know  what  to  an- 
swer.] "  I  never  saw  such  a  person  as  you  are  for  asking 

Q.   "  Are  you  awake  or  asleep?  " 

A.  [Still  puzzled,  but  finally  apparently  catching  the 
suggestion.]     "  Asleep,  I  suppose ;  yes,  asleep." 

Q.  "  What  is  the  difference  between  you  now  and  when 
you  are  not  here  ?  " 

A.   "  I  am  asleep  now." 

Q.   "  Are  you  the  same  person  ?  " 

A.  [Emphatically.]  "  Of  course  I  jim  the  same  per- 
son." [This  answer  should  be  compared  with  the  answer 
of  Chris  later  given.] 

Q.  "Do  you  know  everything  that  happens  to  you 
when  you  are  awake?" 

A.   "  Yes,  everything." 

Q.  *'  When  awake  do  you  know  everything  that  happens 
when  you  are  asleep  ?  " 

A.    "  No,  nothing,  and  I  do  not  think  it  quite  fair. " 

Q.   "Why?" 

A.  "  Because  I  like  to  know  things.  It  is  just  that  — 
[with  a  finger  makes  a  sign  imitating  my  method  of  hyp- 
notizing] and  I  go  to  sleep." 

Q.    "  Do  you  feel  tliat  you  are  exactly  the  same  j^erson  ?  " 

A.   "  Of  course.     Why  should  I  feel  differently  ?  " 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  the  general  straightforward, 


direct  tone  of  these  answers  with  those  of  Chris,  now  to  be 
given.     The  change  is  easily  recognized. 

B  II  is  now  more  deeply  hypnotized,  —  to  use  a  com- 
mon but  incorrect  expression,^  —  and  Chris  appears,  as 
shown  by  the  usual  change  of  manner. 

Q.  "  Why  do  you  let  your  arms  move  so  ?  "  [Patient  is 
fidgeting  and  moving  her  hands  and  arms.  Shakes  her 
head  as  a  negative  response,  and  keeps  her  lips  tightly 

Q.    "  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  " 

A.   "  I  d-d-d-don't  want  t-t-to." 

Question  repeated. 

A.   "  I  d-d-d-d-don't  know." 

I  ask  her  another  question.  She  replies  by  shaking  her 
head  in  the  negative,  as  if  unable  to  answer. 

Q.    "  Why  do  you  stutter  ?  " 

A.  [Annoyed.]  "  I  d-d-d-d-don't  st-st-st-stutter.  If  I 
ch-ch-choose  t-t-to  st-st-stutter  I  shall." 

Q.   "  Why  have  }^ou  suddenly  changed  ?  " 

A.   "  I  have  not  ch-ch-changed  at  all." 

"You  were  not  stuttering  a  minute  ago." 

"I  was  n-n-not  t-t-t-talking  a  m-m-m-minute  ago; 
'She'  was." 

Q.   "  Who  is  '  she  '  ?  " 

A.  [Showing  irritation  and  annoyance.]  "  I  won't  ^-^- 
g-go  through  that  n-n-nonsense  again.  I  t-t-told  you  t-t- 
ten  d-d-days  ago.  If  you  d-d-don't  know  any  better  now 
I  sha'n't  t-t-tell  you." 

[These  answers  were  given  with  a  good  deal  of  resent- 

Q.   "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

A.   "  I  sha'n't  t-t-tell  you." 

Q.   "  Can't  you  for  politeness  ?  " 

1  The  correct  way  of  describing  the  process  would  be,  B  II  was  by  a  de- 
vice changed  to  Chris. 


A.  "  I  d-d-don't  cli-ch-choose  t-to  be  p-p-polite.  I  have 
t-t-told  you  many  trt-times." 

Q.   "  Why  do  you  stutter  ?  " 

A.  ''I  d-d-don't  stutter  —  only  something  wrong  with 
my  t-t-tongue." 

Q.   "  Did  you  ever  stutter  in  your  life  ?  " 

A.   "  No,  and  She  did  not  either." 

[It  will  be  noticed  how  quick  B  III  was  to  make  the 
distinction  between  herself  and  "  she  "  at  this  time.  I  here 
tried  to  catch  her  by  the  use  of  the  word  "you,"  but 

Q.  "  Tell  me  once  more  your  name." 

A.  [After  some  hesitation  and  thought.]  "Chris  L." 
[Her  real  name,  we  will  say,  is  Christine  L.  Brown.] 

Q.   "What  more?" 

A.  "  Th-that  is  all.  You  had  b-b-better  make  a  note  of 
it  and  rememl)er  it." 

Q.   "  What  does  L.  stand  for  ?  " 

A.  "  N-n-not  at  all  n-necessary  th- th-that  you  sh-should 

Q.   "  Does  it  stand  for  Brown  ?  "  ^ 

A.  [Irritated.]  "  N-n-no,  her  name  is  Brown.  It-told 
you  th-that  yesterday." 

Q.   "  Well,  I  shall  call  you  Miss  Brown." 

A.  "  If  you  ch-choose  t  t-to  c-c-call  me  Miss  Brown  you 
c-can.     I  shall  have  n-nothing  t-t-to  d-do  with  you." 

Q.   "  How  did  you  get  the  name  of  Chris  ?  " 

A.  [Objects  to  answering,  dodges  the  question  and 
evades  —  then  says :]  "  You  th-think  you  c-can  make  me 
t-tell  everything  b-b-because  you  c-c-can  make  her." 

I  change  my  tone,  upbraiding  her  for  not  being  frank 
and  then  explain  that  my  only  object  is  to  test  her  memory ; 
I  add  that  I  know  how  she  got  it,  and  'she  knows  that  I 

1  That  is,  I  mentioned  the  real  name  of  Miss  Beauchamp  for  which 
"Brown"  is  here  sobsti luted. 


know,  and  I  know  that  she  knows,  so  she  might  as  well 
tell,  as  it  is  merely  a  test  of  continuity  of  memory.  Sub- 
ject becomes  more  placid  and  says :  "  You  suggested  it 
to  me  one  day,  and  I  remember  everything,"  [This  is 

The  peculiar  character  traits  manifested  by  Chris,  which 
distinguished  her  so  unmistakably  from  Miss  Beauchamp, 
both  when  awake  and  when  hypnotized  as  B  II,  naturally 
gave  rise  to  the  suspicion  that  Chris  might  be  an  artificial 
product,  the  result  of  her  own  self-suggestion,  or  simply 
hypnotic  acting.  It  seeped  possible  that  Miss  Beauchamp 
might  as  a  result  of  shading  have  acquired  some  informa- 
tion about  the  m^^re  behavior  of  certain  types  of  second- 
ary personalities,  and  that  the  ideas  thus  originated  might 
have  developed  themselves  afterwards  in  the  hypnotic  state 
in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  Miss  Beauchamp  in  this  state  to 
act  out  a  character  after  some  preconceived  theory ;  or,  if 
not  deliberate  acting,  as  the  psychological  development 
of  auto-suggested  ideas.  On  this  theory  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  closely  questioned  on  her  past  reading  and  knowledge 
of  psychological  phenomena.  Nothing  was  elicited,  how- 
ever, that  in  any  way  supported  this  theory.  I  never  dis- 
covered that  she  had  any  knowledge  of  the  literature  of 
abnormal  psychology,  or  knew  anything  about  modern 
researches  in  this  field  of  inquiry,  including  hypnotism,  mul- 
tiple personahty,  etc.  Thinking  possibly  that  she  had  read 
something  which  might  have  been  forgotten  in  the  waking 
state,  B  II  was  similarly  catechised,  and  finally  Chris  was 
put  through  the  same  cross-examination.  But  in  no  state 
was  there  any  memory  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  having  read 
any  book  or  acquired  any  information  which  could  have 
worked  itself  out  as  suspected.  The  final  developments 
of  the  case,  as  will  appear,  completely  negatived  such  a 

The  psychological  relations  of  B  II  to  the  waking  con- 


sciousness  differed  in  one  very  important  respect  from  those 
of  Chris  to  the  same.  I  am  not  here  concerned  with  the 
'proofs  of  this  difference,  or  with  the  psychological  phe- 
nomena themselves.  This  evidence  will  appear  m  the 
course  of  this  study.  I  am  at  present  concerned  merely 
with  the  conditions  under  which  the  different  hypnotic 
states  or  personaUties  developed,  and  their  varying  peculi- 
arities of  character.  Yet  it  will  aid  in  the  understanding 
of  the  various  phenomena  exhibited  if  certain  psychological 
relations,  which  at  this  time  were  only  hypothetical,  but 
which  were  later  proved,  are  mentioned. 

It  lias  been  stated  that  the  hypnotic  state  B  II  always 
spoke  of  herself  as  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  never  recog- 
nized any  distinction  of  pei"Sonality  between  the  two 
states.  In  character  they  were  the  same.  Now  nothing 
was  ever  observed,  at  this  time  or  later,  to  indicate  that 
B  II,  as  such,  had  a  persisting  and  continuous  existence 
during  the  waking  state  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  It  is 
frequently  assumed  by  writers  that  the  hypnotic  con- 
sciousness persists,  as  a  more  or  less  systematized  self, 
during  waking  life.  This  conception  is  expressed  in  such 
phrases  as  the  "  subconscious  self,"  the  "  hidden  self,"  etc., 
which  are  loosely  used  as  the  equivalent  of  the  "  hypnotic 

It  is  a  much  more  difficult  matter  than  would  at  first  sight 
seem  to  be  the  case,  —  indeed,  much  more  difficult  than  is 
generally  supposed,  —  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  second- 
ary consciousness  during  the  normal  waking  life.  This 
idea  that  the  hypnotic  self  persists  after  the  subject  wakes, 
aa  a  concomitant  subconscious  self,  —  that  is,  a  self  which 
has  an  existence  concomitant  with,  but  unknown  to,  the 
waking  personal  consciousness,  —  has  grown  out  of  cer- 
tain suggested  post-hypnotic  phenomena,  and  also  from 
what  is  observed  in  certain  hysterical  states.  Post-hyp- 
notic phenomena  have  been  already  described.     Still  bet- 


ter  our  illustrations  of  subconscious  mental  action  are 
those  indicating  arithmetical  calculation,  fii-st  devised,  I 
think,  by  the  late  Edmund  Gurney  in  England.  Success- 
ful experiments  of  this  kind  I  have  been  able  to  obtain 
with  Miss  Beauchamp.  To  make  such  experiments,  a 
suitable  subject  in  hypnosis  is  told,  say,  to  add  or  multiply 
certain  figures,  or  make  some  other  calculation,  and  per- 
haps give  the  result  at  the  end  of  a  certain  period,  say 
eighteen  hours,  which  would  again  require  the  counting  of 
the  passage  of  time.  The  subject  is  instantaneously  awak- 
ened before  he  could  possibly  make  the  calculation,  which 
is  worked  out  subconsciously  without  the  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject,  and  later  the  answer  is  given  in  one  of 
various  ways  in  response  to  the  command. 

This  problem  of  the  sub-conscious  self  we  shall  consider 
later  in  another  place  (Part  III).  I  will  here  merely  point 
out  that  all  such  phenomena  are  artifacts,  the  artificial  pro- 
ducts of  suggestion  (just  as  hypnosis  itself  is  an  artificial 
dissociation),  and  in  no  way  indicate  that  habitually  and 
normally  there  is  a  subconsciousness  so  elaborate  that  it  can 
be  regarded  as  in  any  sense  a  self ;  or,  when  a  person  can  be 
deeply  hypnotized,  that  the  whole  of  the  stream  of  con- 
sciousness which  constitutes  hypnosis  —  the  personal  hyp- 
notic consciousness  — persists  as  such  after  waking.  This 
is  by  no  means  a  denial  that  some  elements  of  the  hypnotic 
consciousness,  some  ideas  or  emotions  may  not  become  by 
artifice  or  other  influence  dissociated  and  then  persist  dur- 
ing the  waking  state  as  a  subconsciousness.  On  the  con- 
trary such  may  be  shown  to  be  the  case.  It  is  a  denial 
that,  under  normal  conditions,  that  stream  of  conscious- 
ness which  constitutes  the  personal  self  during  hypnosis 
persists  as  a  whole,  or  in  the  large  sense  of  a  self,  after 
waking ;  or  that  we  may  justifiably  speak  of  the  hypnotic 
self  as  a  second  normal  hidden  self.  The  exact  mechanism 
of  artificial  subconscious  phenomena  is  somewhat  complex, 


but  in  a  general  way  it  is  sufficiently  correct  to  say  that 
the  suggestion  dissociates  a  limited  number  of  mental 
states  (ideas,  etc.),  from  the  remainder  of  the  personal 
consciousness,  and  these  isolated  dissociated  ideas  take 
on  what  is  called  "  automatic  "  activity,  and  carry  out  the 
suggestion  subconsciously.  They  may  and  often  do  tem- 
porarily rob  the  personal  self  of  a  part  of  its  field.  The 
dissociation  is  only  temporaiy,  and  as  soon  as  the  experi- 
ment has  been  accomplished,  synthesis  again  takes  place, 
or  the  activity  of  the  dissociated  ideas  subsides.  It  is  true 
that  when  the  subject  is  put  again  into  hypnosis  he  remem- 
bera  the  subconscious  thoughts  dissociated  by  the  experi- 
ment. He  remembers  his  arithmetical  problem.  He  may 
remember  how  he  did  it  and  why  he  did  it ;  but  he  likewise 
remembers  his  waking  thoughts,  —  the  thoughts  of  the 
personal  self,  —  and  therefore,  if  continuity  of  memory  be 
taken  as  a  criterion,  it  would  show  that  the  hypnotic  con- 
sciousness is  identical  with  the  waking  consciousness  as 
well  as  the  subconscious.  But  it  cannot  be  identical  with 
both.  The  real  fact  is  that  when  the  subject  is  thrown 
into  hypnosis  the  artificially  created  subconscious  memories 
become  amalgamated  with  the  hypnotic  consciousness,  and 
therefore  the  previously  subconscious  thoughts  are  remem- 
bered by  it.  When  he  wakes  up  these  memories  are 
again  dissociated,  that  is,  forgotten  in  the  sense  that  they 
cannot  be  awakened,  synthesized,  and  recalled. 

Tlie  erroneous  assumptions  in  the  notion  of  the  "  hidden 
self  "  are  that  normally  and  habitually  there  is  a  persistent 
hypnotic  self^  that  is,  persistent  during  the  waking  state  as  a 
subconsciousness,  and  that  this  self  is  a  definite  entity  occu- 
pying a  definite  place  in  the  mental  economy.  It  implies 
that  whatever  subconscious  states  may  be  present  normally 
are  coextensive  with  the  whole  consciousness  which  makes 
up  the  personal  self  during  hypnosis.  This  is  the  funda- 
mental error.     The  hypnotic  self  is  ordinarily  a  well  devel- 


oped  personality;  it  is  a -great  complex  grouping  of  con- 
scious processes  constituting  what  is  called  a  self,  in  fact 
is  the  primary  self  shorn  of  some  of  its  faculties.  There- 
fore if  it  persisted  as  a  self  after  waking,  we  should  have  a 
paradox.  The  truth  of  tliis  will  be  recognized  if  we  con- 
sider the  lighter  stages  of  hypnosis.  Here  the  disintegra- 
tion may  be  so  slight  that  the  hypnotic  self  may  have  such 
a  large  field  of  consciousness  as  to  be  approximately  equiv- 
alent to  the  waking  self.  Surely  such  a  hypnotic  state  can- 
not exist  as  an  extra  self  after  the  subject  wakes. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  certain  hysterical  states,  such  as 
anesthesia  and  fixed  ideas,  there  is  a  persistent  dissociation 
of  consciousness,  meaning  a  persistent  subconsciousness  of 
a  greater  or  less  extent,  ranging  from  a  few  isolated  sensa- 
tions to  fairly  large  groups  of  ideas.  Sometimes  these 
subconscious  ideas  spontaneously  manifest  themselves  in 
certain  outbursts,  and  thus  reveal  their  presence.  At  other 
times  this  subconsciousness,  by  suitable  devices,  can  be 
tapped  and  shown  to  exist.  The  lost  sensory  perceptions, 
which  constitute  the  anesthesia,  can  be  shown  to  be  re- 
tained subconsciously.  The  subconscious  "  fixed  ideas  " 
may  sometimes  be  shown  to  be  a  part  of  a  large  group  of 
ideas, —  so  large  as  to  constitute  almost  a  second  person- 
ality. Such  states,  then,  exist  concomitantly  with  the 
waking  consciousness,  coexist  with  it,  and  indicate  a  veri- 
table doubling  of  the  mind.  Such  a  subconsciousness,  as 
will  appear,  was  Chris. 

But  even  a  subconsciousness  of  this  kind  is  not  identical 
in  extent  with  the  hypnotic  consciousness.  The  subcon- 
sciousness, so  long  as  it  is  subconscious,  has  a  much  nar- 
rower field ;  it  does  not  (excepting  in  crises)  have  control, 
for  instance,  of  the  arms  and  legs,  or  the  speech  faculties, 
and  it  is  not  possessed  of  the  intellectual  capacities  which 
the  subject  in  hypnosis  possesses.  When  the  subject  is 
hypnotized  and  put  into  a  particular  state,  the  subcon- 


sciousness  may  become  fused  with  this  particular  hypnotic 
consciousness,  and,  if  so,  its  contents  are  then  remembered 
and  the  whole  may  then  form  an  alternating  personality .^ 
A  subconsciousness  is  a  particular  group  of  mental  states^ 
dissociated  from  but  concomitant  with  the  personal  self^;  but 
we  have  no  way  as  yet  of  experimentally  determining  how 
extensive  this  subconscious  group  may  be.  The  ordinary 
methods  of  tapping  the  subconscious  stratum  (automatic 
writing,  speech,  etc.)  are  fallacious,  as  for  the  very  purpose 
of  manifesting  itself  the  subconscious  tends  to  rob  the  wak- 
ing self  of  part  of  its  ideas. 

Now  as  a  fact,  B  II  never  showed  any  evidence  of  per- 
sisting as  a  concomitant  subconsciousness.  If  you  asked 
her  what  became  of  herself  when  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
awake  as  B  I,  she  would  answer  she  did  not  know.  Did 
she  exist  at  such  times  as  B  II?  No,  she  was  waked  up, 
that  was  all:  she  was  B  I:  she  was  the  same  person. 
The  question  itself,  in  her  mind,  implied  an  absurdity  or 
wrong  conception.  She  was  B  I;  how  then  could  she 
otherwise  exist  at  the  same  time,  and  as  somebody  else  ? 
B  I  went  to  sleep,  and  we  called  her  B  II.  Nor  did  B  II 
have  any  memory  of  having  had  mental  experiences  when 
B  I  was  awake,  other  than  those  of  B  I,  including,  of 
course,  the  experiences  which  B  I  had  had,  but  had  for- 
gotten.8  Nor  were  there  any  spontaneous  manifestations 
of  subconscious  mental  life,  like  automatic  writing,  speech, 
or  obsessions,  which  could  be  traced  to  a  persistent  B  II. 
B  II,  in  other  words,  was  B  I  "  asleep,"  and  was  limited 

*  It  may  then  be  hastily,  but  unwarrantably,  assumed  that  the  whole  al« 
ternatiug  personality  persists  subconsciously  after  waking,  instead  of  only  a 
limited  number  of  concomitant  states. 

*  Janet's  "  L^ontine,"  in  the  case  of  Mme.  B.,  may  be  taken  as  a  good 

»  This  statement  does  not  include  the  isolated  subconscious  states  probar 
bly  habitual  to  every  normal  mind,  and  which  B  II  remembered.  An  in- 
vestigation sliowed  that  there  were  such  states,  but  that  they  belonged  to 
B  I.    To  consider  this  question  here  would  involve  too  wide  a  digression. 


to  that  state.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  B  II  was  later 
(Chapter  XVIII)  termed  B  la,  which  expresses  this  re- 
lationship ;  while  the  term  B  II  was  transferred  to  another 
hypnotic  state  which  was  afterwards  discovered.  This  is 
important  to  bear  in  mind. 

With  Chris,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  different.  From 
almost  the  very  first  her  language  implied  a  concomitant 
existence  for  herself,  a  double  mental  life  for  Miss  Beau- 
champ.  She  always  spoke  as  if  she  had  her  own  thoughts, 
perceptions,  and  will  during  the  time  while  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  in  existence.  As  an  instance  of  this  may  be 
taken  the  conversation  when  Chris  was  questioned  to  dis- 
cover whether  Miss  Beauchamp  had  read  any  book  about 
multiple  personalities,  and  also  to  determine  whether  the 
whole  range  of  ideas  gathered  by  the  reading  of  the  wak- 
ing self,  B  I,  was  retained  in  Chris's  mind.  It  was  after- 
wards shown  that  the  latter  was  only  in  part  the  case,  but 
her  answers  implied  coexistence  and  parallelism  of  thought, 
for  she  explained  certain  lapses  of  knowledge  by  asserting 
that  ordinarily,  as  she  herself  was  not  fond  of  books,  she 
did  not  pay  attention  while  Miss  Beauchamp  was  reading ; 
but  that  when  she  did  so,  which  was  only  when  interested, 
she  could  understand  and  remember  the  text;  that  she 
liked  different  books  from  those  Miss  Beauchamp  liked, 
and  that  she  understood  some  things  Miss  Beauchamp  did 
not,  and  vice  versa} 

1  It  may  seem  a  contradiction  to  say  that  Chris  knew  Miss  Beauchamp's 
thoughts,  and  yet  did  not  understand  all  that  the  latter  read.  The  distinc- 
tion is  comprehensible,  though  it  proves  a  limitation  of  Chris's  field  of  con- 
sciousness relative  to  that  of  B  I,  and  shows  that  it  was  not  as  full  and 
complete  as  the  latter's.  A  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  ordinary  thought-knowledge  and  the  knowledge  wliich  she  acquired 
as  a  matter  of  learning,  such  as  French,  shorthand,  etc.  The  former,  Chris  was 
fully  conscious  of,  but  beyond  a  few  words  she  did  not  know  French,  though 
Miss  Beauchamp  read  it  easily.  The  same  was  true  of  shorthand.  Indeed, 
later,  one  of  the  personalities  wrote  shorthand  in  her  diary  so  that  Chris  should 
not  understand  what  she  had  written ;  and  I  was  in  the  habit  of  using  Frencli  to 
convey  ioforniation  which  it  was  important  should  be  concealed  from  Chris. 


A  claim  of  this  kind,  to  be  able  to  pay  attention  or  not 
as  she  pleased,  when  the  waking  consciousness  was  read- 
ing, required  the  coexistence  and  simultaneous  action  of 
two  distinct  and  unlike  streams  of  thought  in  one  individ- 
ual. For  a  second  consciousness  to  be  interested  or  not,  to 
pay  attention  volitionaUy  (that  is,  to  will)  or  not,  while  the 
first  consciousness  is  acting,  for  the  one  consciousness  to 
understand  when  the  other  did  not,  and  vice  versa,  neces- 
sitated two  coexisting  consciousnesses.  The  fact  that  Chris 
remembered  what  Miss  Beauchamp  read  did  not  necessarily 
imply  coexistence.  A  person  in  hypnosis  may  remember 
what  occurs  in  the  waking  state,  though  the  two  mental 
states  are  successive,  not  coexistent.  Chris's  claim  meant 
pamllelism  of  thought.  The  idea  that  Chris  might  con- 
tinue her  existence  as  a  subconscious  peraonality  rested  on 
nothing  more  than  her  own  statements  at  this  time.  It 
became  an  important  psychological  problem  that  required 
investigation  and  to  be  proved  or  disproved.  It  should  be 
remembered  that  up  to  this  time  Chris  had  had  no  inde- 
pendent existence  excepting  in  my  presence,  and  if  she  had 
done  any  independent  reading  it  must  have  been  as  a  sub- 
conscious personality.  Continuing  the  inquiry  in  regard  to 
this  point,  I  had  accused  Chris,  in  order  to  draw  her  out^ 
of  not  being  able  to  understand  what  Miss  Beauchamp 
read,  or  to  read  independently,  subconsciously  and  contem- 
poraneously with  the  waking  self. 

"  What  you  mean  to  say  is,  you  can't  read." 

"  I  won't  read." 

"  You  can  read,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  won't." 


"  I  don't  like  it.    I  won't  pay  attention  when  she  reads." 

"  Never  ?  " 

"  Only  once  in  a  great  while." 

"  Do  you  understand  what  '  she  '  reads  ?  " 


"  I  understand  some  things.  I  pay  attention  to  some 
things,  and  not  to  others ;  sometimes,  though,  when  I  do 
pay  attention  I  don't  understand,  but  she  does ;  and  some- 
times she  does  not  understand  and  I  do."  (At  this  inter- 
view her  memory  was  tested  for  a  book  which  Miss 
Beauchamp  had  read,  and  was  found  to  be  the  same  as  the 

Such  statements  in  themselves  of  course  have  no  scien- 
tific value  as  proof ;  a  memory  of  a  previous  subconscious 
personal  existence  might  well  be  a  delusion.  Nor  would 
the  fact  that  she  remembered  certain  previous  subconscious 
ideas  —  ideas  not  possessed  by  the  waking  self  —  prove  the 
subconscious  existence  of  a  "  hidden "  Chris,  any  more 
than  does  the  memory  possessed  by  the  ordinary  hypnotic 
self  prove,  as  I  have  already  pointed  out,  the  subconscious 
persistence  of  that  self.  Indeed,  no  hypnotic  self,  that  has 
not  exhibited  subconscious  manifestations,  has  ever  claimed 
a  persistent  subconscious  existence.  Certainly  B  II  did 
not.  If  Chris's  belief  was  a  delusion,  it  may  be  asked  how 
did  she  come  by  it,  seeing  that  none  of  the  other  pei-sonali- 
ties  or  hypnotic  states  had  such  a  belief.  It  certainly  was 
not  suggested  to  her,  for  in  the  beginning  I  always  denied 
the  truth  of  it.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  my  denials,  Chris 
always  refused  to  admit  the  identity  of  her  own  personality 
with  that  of  B  I,  whether  as  a  hypnotic  or  subconscious 
personality.  "  We  are  not  the  same  person,"  she  would 
insist;  "we  do  not  think  the  same  thoughts;"  meaning 
when  B  I  was  present.  In  other  words,  she  claimed,  in 
her  own  peculiar  language,  to  be  always  present  as  a 

When  asked  the  direct  question  if  she  continued  to  exist 
as  a  separate  and  distinct  self  while  B  I  was  awake  she 
asserted  positively  and  unqualifiedly  that  she  did,  and 
maintained  that  at  such  times  her  own  contemporaneous 
thoughts  ran  in  a  different  stream  from  those  and  were 



totally  unlike  those  of  her  other  self  whose  inmost  thoughts 
and  feelings  she  then  knew. 

This  question  of  Chris's  being  a  coexisting  as  well  as  an 
alternating  personality,  was  more  difficult  to  prove  off-hand 
than  might  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  the  case.  Experimen- 
tal methods  were  unsatisfactory.  It  was,  to  be  sure,  easy 
enough,  as  I  soon  found,  to  obtain  experimentally  automatic 
and  post-hypnotic  phenomena,  like  that  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  throwing  down  the  book  which  she  was  trying  to 
read,  and  even  to  communicate  with  Chris  while  a  subcon- 
scious personality.  Numerous  observations  of  this  kind 
might  be  cited,  all  showing  the  existence  of  concomitant 
states,  and  the  doubling  of  consciousness  ;  and  it  was  easy 
to  identify  the  second  personality  communicated  with  as 
Chris.  But  a  doubling  obtained  experimentally  might 
well  be  explained  as  an  artifact  and  the  product  of  sugges- 
tion. Spontaneous  phenomena  were  essential  for  proof. 
These,  and  plenty  of  them,  and  of  every  variety,  were 
soon  forthcoming,  and  proved  conclusively  that  there  were 
moments  when  there  was  a  veritable  doubling  of  conscious- 
ness.    They  will  be  found  running  through  this  study. 

To  admit  that  Chris  existed  even  momentarily  as  a  co- 
conscious  second  self  while  Miss  Beauchamp  was  awake 
may  seem  inconsistent  with  the  statement  made  above  that 
normally  the  hypnotic  self  does  not  peraist  as  such  during 
the  waking  state.  I  must  ask  the  reader  to  suspend  his 
judgment  in  this  and  several  other  matters  of  this  kind 
until  the  case  has  been  more  fuUy  unfolded.  "We  shall 
soon  see  that  Chris  was  not  simply  a  hypnotic  self,  but  she 
was  distinctly  a  pathological  condition,  both  as  an  alterna- 
ting and  as  a  subconscious  self. 

But  if  it  shall  be  found  that  Chris  coexisted  as  a  second 
self  during  any  part  of  B  I's  life,  there  still  will  remain 
two  questions  of  psychological  importance:  first,  what 
was  the  extent  of  the  field  of  her  co-conscious  life  ?    That 


is,  when  she  became  a  co-consciousness,  did  the  mass  of  her 
mental  processes  remain  unchanged,  or  become  augmented, 
or  did  it  dwindle  to  elementary  proportions  ?  Second,  was 
her  subconscious  life  continuously  persistent  during  that 
of  B  I,  or  did  it  come  into  existence  only  sporadically 
under  certain  conditions  when  aroused  by  special  excitants  ? 
These  questions  are  diiSicult  to  answer.  Chris's  own  state- 
ments, being  based  on  introspection,  cannot  be  accepted  as 
reliable  evidence,  though  they  are  free  from  the  artifacts 
which  experimental  methods  are  liable  to  produce.  For 
the  present  we  leave  aside  this  portion  of  the  problem 
until  the  data  for  any  kind  of  subconscious  life  have  been 



IN  these  early  days  of  Chris's  appearance  she  was  in- 
clined to  be  boastful,  or  at  least  to  claim  a  superior 
intelligence  to  that  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  whom  she 
scorned.  "She  is  a  stupid  chump,"  she  would  say, 
revelling  in  the  slang  as  a  child  might.  She  also,  when 
driven  into  a  comer  with  questions,  sought  to  evade, 
rather  than  appear  ignorant  or  incapable,  so  that  it  was 
necessary  to  take  some  of  her  assertions  with  a  grain  of 
salt.  This  was  particularly  the  case  when  her  powers 
relative  to  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp  were  in  question. 
Later,  when  we  came  to  know  each  other  better,  she  made 
a  solemn  promise  never  to  deceive  or  mislead  in  matters 
of  serious  inquiry.  This  promise  she  rigidly  kept,  and, 
excepting  when  it  was  a  matter  of  pure  fun,  I  do  not 
know  any  deliberate  falsification  of  fact  made  by  her. 
Often  she  sought,  as  will  appear,  to  throw  dust  in  my 
eyes  about  her  own  culpable  actions,  and  often  she  would 
refuse  information,  but  when  it  came  to  actual  confession  I 
always  got  the  exact  truth. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  from  the  very  beginning  of  her 
career  Chris  showed  an  intense  dislike  and  contempt  for 
her  other  self.  Almost  from  the  first  words  she  spoke, 
this  attitude  was  manifested.  Even  during  the  first  days, 
before  she  was  allowed  to  open  her  eyes,  and  l^efore  she 
developed  an  independent  life,  as  afterwards  came  to  be 
the  case,  she  lost  no  opportunity  of  ridiculing  Miss  B.'s 
love  of  books  and  religion,  and  the  intense  idealism  which 


caused  her  to  respond  to  life  with  unnecessary  emotional- 
ism. "  Her  "  head  was  in  the  clouds,  Chris  declared,  and 
"her"  intensity  of  thought  she  called  "mooning."  She 
thought  it  all  "stupid"  and  "silly."  The  contrast  be- 
tween the  attitude  of  Chris  and  that  of  B  II  toward  their 
waking  self  was  very  striking.  If  I  asked  B  II  who  she 
herself  was,  with  quiet  dignity  she  would  say,  "I  am 
myself,  Dr.  Prince,"  or  "I  am  Miss  Beauchamp,"  and  she 
always  gave  expression  to  the  same  feelings  and  ideals  as 
when  awake.  But  in  Chris,  from  her  first  entrance,  every 
taste  and  ideal  had  become  changed;  and  she  had  no 
respect  for  those  of  the  person  to  whom  she  found  herself 
tiresomely  linked  in   life. 

The  difference  between  the  ideals  of  Miss  Beauchamp 
and  her  subconscious  self  offered  a  constant  and  entertain- 
ing study.  One  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  prominent  character- 
istics is  a  sense  of  responsibility  and  duty.  Amusement 
plays  no  part  in  her  conception  of  life,  owing  to  certain  cir- 
cumstances of  her  environment.  However  much  one  might 
from  a  moral  point  of  view  admire  this  characteristic,  there 
was  a  delightful  attractiveness  in  Chris's  absolute  disregard 
of  responsibility;  she  was  a  child  of  nature.  Though  it 
was  not  until  much  later  in  her  career  that  she  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  put  her  own  ideas  into  practice,  and  to  please 
her  own  tastes  (which  she  did  with  a  vengeance),  she  early 
let  her  sentiments  be  known.  It  was  contempt  for  Miss 
Beauchamp's  ideals  which  led  her  to  try  to  give  the  im- 
pression of  mental  superiority.  She  had,  as  we  shall  see, 
a  certain  plausible  excuse  for  this,  in  that,  as  a  subcon- 
scious personality,  she  observed  things^  when  Miss  Beau- 
champ was  absorbed  in  thought,  which  the  latter  did  not 
observe,  and  remembered  much  that  had  been  forgotten  or 
never  known  by  her.  When  I  say  that  "as  a  subconscious 
personality  "  she  did  this  I  am  stating  an  interpretation  of 
the  phenomena  which  were  later  observed  rather  than  the 


actual  facts  themselves.  The  facts  were  that  Chris  re- 
membered and  described  having  seen  and  heard  much  of 
which  Miss  Beauchamp  was  ignorant;  such  as  the  face  of 
a  passer-by  or  sounds  in  the  street.  This  could  be  experi- 
mentally demonstrated.  The  now  generally  accepted  in- 
terpretation of  such  phenomena  is  subconscious  perception, 
and  there  seems  to  be  no  way  of  inteipreting  the  perception 
which  Chris  remembered  excepting  in  this  way,  but  it  is 
well  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  an  interpretation,  other- 
wise there  is  danger  of  statements  of  fact  becoming  too 
broad.  In  this  sense  she  also  could  subconsciously  inter- 
fere with  and  influence  Miss  Beauchamp's  actions,  as 
when  she  made  her  fling  down  the  book  and  diverted  her 
thoughts  to  prevent  her  from  reading.  Chris  thought  this 
was  quite  sufficient  to  constitute  mental  superiority.  To 
draw  her  out  I  used  to  insist  that  she  did  not  know  as 
much  about  the  psychology  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  mind  as 
she  asserted.  This  would  annoy  her  and  put  her  ou  her 
mettle  to  prove  her  claims.  On  the  first  occasion  when  so 
taunted  she  replied  peevishly,  "  You  would  be  more  sen- 
sible to  be  friends  with  me  than  to  say  I  don't  know  things 
when  I  do,"  and  this  I  found  to  be  the  case.  Most  of 
Chris's  peculiarities  of  conduct  came  from  her  thoroughly 
childlike  character.  Her  point  of  view  and  knowledge  of 
the  world  being  those  of  a  very  young  girl,  she  loved  to 
be  thought  wicked,  though  her  ideas  of  wickedness  were 
youthful.  She  pretended  to  like  French  novels,  though 
she  could  not  read  French  and  knew  nothing  about  the 

In  the  course  of  the  interview  of  May  1,  reported  in  the 
last  chapter,  Chris  remarked  that  she  smelled  the  odor  of 
a  cigarette  which  I  had  been  smoking.  I  offered  her  one. 
Delighted  at  the  idea,  she  accepted,  but  smoked  the  cigar- 
ette very  clumsily.  The  fact  that  smoking  is  something 
absolutely  repugnant  to  Miss  Beauchamp's  tastes  added  to 


Chris's  enjoyment.  Her  manner  was  that  of  a  child  in 

"  Won't  she  be  cross  ?  "  she  laughed. 


"She  is  not  in  the  habit  of  smoking  cigarettes.  / 
shall  smoke  though." 

Miss  Beauchamp,  when  awakened,  entirely  ignorant  of 
what  she  had  been  doing,  complained  of  a  bitter  taste  in 
her  mouth,  but  could  not  identify  it,  and  I  did  not  en- 
lighten her.  At  the  next  interview  I  remarked  to  Chris, 
"  Was  n't  it  funny  to  see  Miss  Beauchamp  when  she  tasted 
the  tobacco  in  her  mouth,  and  did  not  know  what  it 

Chris  laughed  and  thought  it  a  great  joke.  "  Yes,  she 
thought  you  had  been  putting  quinine  in  her  mouth,  but 
did  not  dare  ask  you."  This  remark,  later  verified  by 
Miss  Beauchamp,  was  one  of  many  which  showed  Chris 
had  knowledge  of  Miss  Beauchamp 's  thoughts. 

The  sequel  to  this  episode  was  amusing.  At  a  later 
period  I  was  engaged  in  making  an  experimental  study  of 
visions,^  and  for  the  purpose  had  Miss  Beauchamp  (B  I) 
look  into  a  glass  wherein  she  saw  various  visions  of  one 
kind  and  another.  That  is  to  say,  the  phenomena  of  so- 
called  crystal  visions  were  easily  produced,  and  she  proved 
an  excellent  subject.  These  visions  were,  for  the  most 
part,  reproductions  of  past  experiences.  In  one  experi- 
ment she  was  horrified  and  astonished  on  looking  into  the 
globe  to  see  the  scene  of  the  cigarette  rehearsed  in  all  its 
details.  She  saw  herself  sitting  on  a  sofa  —  the  identical 
sofa  on  which  she  was  at  that  moment  seated  —  smoking 
cigarettes.  Her  eyes,  in  the  vision,  were  closed.  (Chris's 
eyes  were  always  closed  at  this  time. )  It  was  amusing  to 
watch  the  expression  of  astonishment  and  chagrin  with 
which   she    beheld   herself  in   this   Bohemian   act.      She 

1  Brain,  Winter  Number,  1898. 


indignantly  repudiated  the  fact,  declared  it  was  not  true, 
and  that  she  had  never  smoked  a  cigarette  in  her  life. 
The  childlike  expression  on  her  face  in  the  vision  — 
Chris's  face  —  which  she  characterized  as  "foolish"  also 
annoyed  her. 

The  ease  with  which  visual  hallucinations  were  induced 
in  Miss  Beauchamp  indicated  great  suggestibility,  a  fact 
of  considerable  significance,  as  we  shall  see.  For  the 
present,  however,  we  are  concerned  only  with  the  indi- 
vidual character  of  the  hypnotic  and  subconscious  states. 

Continuing  the  conversation  about  French  novels  and 
wickedness,  Chris  remarked  laughingly,  "She  does  not 
enjoy  wickedness.  I  do.  She  thinks  she  is  going  to  be 
a  sister.     She  won't  as  long  as  I  am  here." 


[With  an  expression  of  disgust  on  her  face.]  "I  have 
a  great  objection  to  having  nothing  to  eat,  and  doing 
things  I  am  told  to  do,  and  going  to  church  and  being 
preached  at.     I  have  other  things  to  do." 


[Laughing.]     "To  smoke  cigarettes." 

For  the  first  two  months  after  Chris's  appearance,  she 
used  to  remain  seated  on  a  sofa  before  me  with  her  eyes 
closed,  as  did  B  II.  She  early  developed  what  at  first 
appeared  to  be  an  inconsequential  trick  of  rubbing  her 
closed  eyelids,  as  if  to  remove  an  uncomfortable  feeling. 
When  asked  why  she  did  this,  she  explained  that  she 
wanted  to  get  her  eyes  open  to  see.  She  could  not  volun- 
tarily open  her  eyes,  owing  apparently  to  the  original 
suggestion  producing  hypnosis,  including  as  it  did  the 
idea  of  closure  of  the  lids.  Nevertheless,  there  was  this 
difference  between  this  personality  and  B  II.  The  latter 
was  ready  to  accept  any  reasonable  suggestion  without 
remonstrance,  but  Chris  from  the  outset  showed  a  will 
and  individuality  of  her  own,  which  were  in  no  way  sub- 


ject  to  anybody  else's  influence.  Now  she  sought  to  get 
her  eyes  open,  taking  every  opportunity  to  rub  them  when 
not  prevented.  She  wanted  to  see ;  she  had  a  "  right  to 
see"  and  "would  see,"  she  declared,  and  complained 
because  this  was  not  allowed.  It  was  forbidden  on  the 
theory  that,  if  she  succeeded  and  could  thus  add  true  vis- 
ual images  of  her  surroundings  to  her  own  consciousness, 
these  same  images  when  seen  by  Miss  Beauchamp  would 
by  association  tend  to  bring  Chris  spontaneously.  This 
afterward  came  to  pass,  as  there  is  reason  to  believe.  But 
though  her  eyes  were  kept  closed,  she  was  lively  and  viva- 
cious, and  very  alert  to  "  catch  on  "  to  everything  going 
on  in  the  room.  As  we  became  better  acquainted,  she 
gave  vent  to  her  spirit  of  fun  and  irresponsibility. 

At  this  time  some  phenomena  were  reported  which  were 
the  prelude  to  a  long  series  of  events  which  are  difficult 
of  interpretation  excepting  as  interferences  by  the  subcon- 
scious personality,  Chris,  with  the  mental  processes  of  the 
primary  or  personal  consciousness.  Up  to  this  time,  with 
one  exception,  the  manifestations  of  the  mental  life  of  that 
group  of  mental  states  which  we  have  dubbed  Chris,  were 
.  limited  to  the  short  periods  when,  as  an  unexpected  result 
of  the  hpynotizing  process,  the  waking  self  was  trans- 
formed into  this  second  ^  personality.  During  those 
periods  Chris  was,  in  the  slang  of  the  street,  "It."  For 
the  time  being  there  was  no  other  personality,  and  she 
had  the  field  to  herself.  The  one  exception  just  referred 
to  was  the  few  post-hypnotic  phenomena,  artificially  in- 
duced. Post-hypnotic  phenomena,  as  already  pointed 
out,  are  manifestations  of  a  "doubling  of  consciousness," 
artificially  induced,  of  a  kind  to  form  two  more  or  less 
independent  mental  systems.     The  independent  activity 

1  Although  labelled  B  III,  she  was  a  second  personality ;  as  B  II  is,  more 
correctly,  only  a  hypnotic  state  of  B  I.  The  distinction  between  a  hypnotic 
state  and  a  personality  is  psychologically  arbitrary,  but  practically  useful. 


of  each  system  produces  the  phenomena.  But  such  phe- 
nomena, as  ordinarily  brought  about,  are  not  spontaneous, 
but  the  result  of  artificial  interference ;  they  are  of  conse- 
quence psychologically  in  that  they  show  the  ease  with 
which  even  normal  minds  may  be  split  in  two. 

The  strange  behavior  now  reported  by  Miss  Beauchamp 
embraced  phenomena  which  were  entirely  spontaneous. 
Their  significance,  when  scientifically  interpreted,  con- 
sisted in  the  fact  that  they  were  evidence  of  a  duality  of 
the  mind,  and  the  contemporaneous  activity  of  the  two 
minds,  at  one  and  the  same  moment.  Further,  the  con- 
tent of  the  phenomena  implied  considerable  will  and 
intelligence  in  the  second  mind.  At  this  date,  of  course, 
the  truth  of  the  phenomena  depended  entirely  upon  the 
statements  of  Miss  Beauchamp  and  of  Chris;  but  at  a 
later  date  I  had  opportunities,  over  and  over  again,  —  a 
hundred  times,  I  might  say, — personally  to  witness  similar 
and  even  more  pronounced  "phenomena  of  automatism," 
as  they  are  called.  These  early  beginnings  of  automatism 
are  mentioned  here  in  order  that  the  conditions,  under 
which  the  development  of  the  personalities  in  this  case 
took  place,  may  be  appreciated,  as  well  as  the  entirely 
spontaneous  character  of  the  phenomena.  At  this  time, 
and  indeed  up  to  a  much  later  period.  Miss  Beauchamp 
knew  nothing  of  her  dual  self,  and  nothing  of  what  took 
place  in  hypnosis.  She  knew  she  was  hypnotized,  but  not 
a  word  was  said  to  her  of  her  own  behavior  in  hypnosis, 
either  as  Chris  or  B  II.  Consequently,  when  she  was 
the  victim  of  subconscious  action,  she  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  her  own  conduct. 

May  11.  "Miss  Beauchamp  reports  that  she  has  been  per- 
fectly well  since  last  here,  two  days  ago ;  but  states  that  she 
has  been  doing  a  most  extraordinary  thing,  namely,  telling 
frightful  lies;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  she  does  not  care  at  the 
moment  though  she  afterwards  feels  intensely  mortified.     She 


has,  howevei",  been  telling  these  lies  to  only  one  person,  her 
friend,  Miss  K.  Yesterday,  while  riding  in  the  street  car, 
Miss  K.  asked  her  where  Mrs.  Z.  lived  [Mrs.  Z.  is  a  very 
wealthy  lady,  prominent  in  society,  who  occupied  a  beautiful 
place  in  the  suburbs].  Miss  Beauchamp  immediately  pointed 
to  a  squalid  little  house  by  the  roadside.  On  Miss  K.  express- 
ing surprise  that  Mrs.  Z.  should  live  in  such  a  poor  sort  of 
house.  Miss  Beauchamp  explained  by  saying  that  Mrs.  Z.  had 
put  all  her  money  in  the  Five  Cents'  Savings  Bank,  and, 
through  the  Bank's  failure,  had  lost  it,  and  that  she  was  now 
economizing.  Miss  K.  looked  at  her  in  a  most  surprised  way, 
as  if  trying  to  make  her  out,  but  said  nothing.  Miss  Beau- 
champ says  that  she  tells  a  great  many  lies  of  this  kind  to  Miss 
K.,  and  seems  at  the  moment  rather  to  enjoy  doing  it.  De- 
clares that  she  has  not  been  in  the  habit  of  telling  lies,  and 
that  it  is  foreign  to  her  nature. 

"  Hypnosis.  At  once  put  into  the  state  of  B  III,  who  stut- 
ters as  usual.  "When  asked  why  Miss  Beauchamp  told  the  lies 
promptly  replied  with  glee :  '  I  made  her  do  it.  I  made  her 
say  that  about  Mrs.  Z's  house,'  etc.  It  was  no  end  of  fun, 
she  thought,  and  she  was  going  to  do  it  again.  '  I  make  her 
do  all  sorts  of  things,'  she  boasted ;  '  I  made  her  drink  three 
glasses  of  wine  last  night,  —  she  never  drinks  but  one,  —  and 
then  I  tried  to  make  her  talk  and  tell  everything  she  knew,  but 
she  wouldn't.  I  could  not  make  her  do  it,  but  I  tried.'  Chris 
is  in  high  spirits  over  her  practical  joke,  and  is  full  of  fun.  She 
is  ordered  to  desist  from  such  things.  At  first  she  rebels,  but 
finally  assents." 

This  promise  was  not  kept,  for: 

May  12.  "  Miss  Beauchamp  reports  that  she  still  tells  ridi- 
culous lies  to  Miss  K. ;  does  not  understand  why ;  her  lies  are 
palpably  untrue,  and  Miss  K.  must  know  them  as  such.  Curi- 
ously enough,  she  finds  a  certain  sort  of  delight  while  utter- 
ing them.  Miss  K.  thinks  she  has  changed  very  much  in 
character.  Says  that  she  also  contradicts  Miss  K.,  instead 
of  accepting  without  hesitation  all  she  says,  as  formerly.  In 
reply  to  question  as  to  her  attitude  of  mind  toward  Miss  K., 


says  she  is  conscious  of  a  certain  feeling  of  bravado  and 
antagonism,  apparently  representing  a  desire  to  show  her 

Chris  must  be  acquitted  of  all  culpability  on  account  of 
this  last  mental  attitude.  1  was  the  culprit,  for  it  was  an 
artifact,  a  phenomenon  of  post-hypnotic  suggestion,  and 
illustrates  the  influence  of  ideas  originating  in  this  way. 
On  April  24  Miss  Beauchamp  had  complained  of  the 
strong  influence  which  Miss  K.  had  over  her,  —  making 
her  do  things  against  her  will,  etc.  This  influence  Miss 
Beauchamp  appeared  to  feel  very  keenly,  and  resented. 
Accordingly,  a  counter-suggestion  was  given  to  B  II, 
(which  of  course  was  unknown  to  Miss  Beauchamp),  that 
she  should  be  under  nobody's  personal  influence.  This 
had  apparently  worked  itself  out  in  the  way  reported. 

Mrs.  X.  is  a  great  friend  of  Miss  Beauchamp;  one 
whom  she  idolizes  and  looks  up  to  with  the  greatest 
respect  and  veneration,  amounting  almost  to  reverence. 
She  was  therefore  much  disturbed  to  find  herself  telling  a 
lot  of  hardly  respectful  nonsense  about  j\Irs.  X.  's  husband, 
of  which  the  following  memorandum  is  made  in  my  notes. 
It  shows  Chris's  idea  of  fun,  and  her  love  of  practical 
jokes  —  always  on  Miss  B. 

May  16.  "  Miss  Beauchamp  reports  that  she  is  still  telling 
fibs.  For  example,  she  told  Miss  M.  that  Mr.  X.  was  a  grcjit 
admirer  of  Swinburne,  and  had  busts  of  him  all  about  the 
house;  that  he  had  named  his  baby  Algernon  Swinburne  X.; 
that  this  baby  was  boneless;  and  tliat  Mr.  X.  fed  him  and  Mrs. 
X.  on  nothing  but  oatmeal,  using  up  all  the  samples  he  had  in 
the  house.  Miss  Beauchamp  is  much  horrified  at  telling  such 
nonsense,  but  does  not  seem  to  be  able  to  help  it ;  cannot  un- 
derstand why  she  does  it ;  more  than  this,  she  tells  such  pure 
nonsense  that  she  feels  it  mortifying." 


Phenomena  of  this  kind  are  psychologically  known  as 
impulsions.  The  subject  is  compelled  to  do  or  say  some- 
thing against  his  own  wishes  and  inclinations.  Some- 
times, indeed,  he  is  horrified  at  the  impelling  idea,  from 
which  he  recoils,  and  often  seeks  protection  against  him- 
self. Sometimes  —  and  of  this  we  shall  later  see  examples 
—  it  is  not  so  much  an  impulse  to  act,  as  an  obsessing  idea 
which  possesses  his  mind ;  an  imperative  idea^  or  obsession. 
These  impulses  and  obsessions,  being  outside  the  will,  are 
types  of  automatisms.  Their  genesis  is  not  always  the 
same,  but  they  may  have  their  origin  in  subconscious 
ideas  which  exist  unknown  to  the  personal  consciousness, 
and  which  break  out  from  time  to  time  in  eruptions,  and 
then  invade  the  field  of  the  waking  consciousness.  Miss 
Beauchamp's  lies  plainly  had  their  origin  in  another  con- 
sciousness, whose   thoughts  were  hidden  from   her  own. 

It  may  be  pointed  out  here  that  these  impulsions  to  lie 
differed  in  one  respect  from  similar  phenomena  which  can 
be  experimentally  induced  in  states  of  abstraction  or  ex- 
treme absentmindedness  in  some  hysterics,  and  which  I 
have  often  evoked  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  case.  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  conscious  of  her  automatic  thoughts  and 
speech,  but  in  a  second  class  of  impulsive  phenomena  the 
subject  is  entirely  unaware  of  what  he  has  said  or  done. 
The  subject,  at  the  moment,  goes  into  a  condition  of 
abstraction  (dissociation),  during  which  the  automatic 
speech  or  writing  is  performed.  The  subject  then  is 
neither  conscious  of  the  ideas  which  gave  rise  to  the  autom- 
atism, nor  of  the  words  spoken  or  written.  The  personal 
consciousness  does  not  hear  its  own  voice  because  of  the 
temporary  division  of  its  own  consciousness.  We  shall 
later  find  examples  of  this. 

In  this  connection  an  exceedingly  interesting  point, 
which  I  will  not  pass  over  without  at  least  calling  atten- 
tion  to   it,    is   the   relation   between    Miss    Beauchamp's 


thoughts  and  her  compulsory  (automatic)  language,  as 
well  as  the  relations  between  Chris's  thoughts  and  the 
speech  centres.  Did  Chris  directly  make  use  of  the  speech 
centres,  and  do  the  lying  directly?  and,  if  so,  what  were 
Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts  at  the  time  ?  Or,  did  Chris 
do  it  by  influencing  Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts,  so  that 
the  latter  did  the  lying  directly?  When  interrogated, 
Chris  frankly  said  she  did  not  understand  the  relations 
between  herself  and  Miss  Beauchamp  psychologically ;  that 
when  she  made  Af^r  talk  she  (Chris)  "simply  talked,  that 
was  all,"  and  then  Miss  Beauchamp  thought  the  things 
she  (Chris)  said.  This  corresponds  with  what  is  known 
of  some  types  of  automatic  writing. 

Assuming  this  statement  to  represent  accurately  the  facts, 
and  that  Chris  at  such  times  is  some  sort  of  a  contemporary 
dissociated  subconscious  mentality,  this  would  seem  to  mean 
that  the  act  of  speaking  (or  functioning  of  the  various 
language  centres)  aroused  in  B  1  the  correlated  thoughts 
which  were  identical  with,  or  part  of  those  of,  the  sub- 
conscious mind.  As  further  evidence  of  this  may  be  cited 
the  fact  that  Miss  Beauchamp  while  talking  experienced 
in  a  mild  way  the  delight  which  was  plainly  Chris's  so 
that  the  correlated  emotion  was  incorporated  along  with 
the  thoughts.  The  same  kind  of  phenomenon  may  be 
observed  sometimes  in  automatic  writing,  although  most 
subjects  are  not  aware  of  what  the  hand  is  writing.  Mi-s. 
H.,  a  patient  of  mine,  and  an  excellent  automatic  writer 
and  speaker,  becomes  conscious  of  what  the  hand  is  writ- 
ing the  moment  the  words  are  about  to  be  written,  although 
a  second  before  she  had  no  idea  of  what  they  would  be.  It 
is  the  same  with  speaking.  The  written  and  spoken  ideas 
thus  become  so  incorporated  with  her  own  ideas  that  she  is 
unable  to  determine  whether  she  is  responsible  for  them  or 
not.  The  same  awakening  of  consciousness  of  tlie  subcon- 
scious ideas  is  true  of  Fanny  S.,  whose  anesthetic  hand 


automatically  records  the  number  of  pricks  given  to  it. 
This  subject  also  describes  by  automatic  speech  objects 
placed  in  the  hand. 

May  17.  "  Reports  that  she  is  feeling  perifeetly  well,  and 
considers  herself  cured ;  has  no  fatigue  to-day,  although  she 
did  not  go  to  bed  until  three  o'clock  this  morning;  still  tells 

After  this  Chris  got  tired  of  the  joke  of  making  Miss 
Beauchamp  tell  fibs,  but  it  was  not  long  before  she  adopted 
new  tricks  to  worry  her  waking  self. 



IF  the  condition  of  Miss  Beauchamp  at  any  particular 
moment  could  be  taken  as  a  criterion,  the  assertion 
made  by  her  at  the  last  interview,  that  she  was  physi- 
cally well,  might  by  the  superficial  observer  be  accepted, 
so  great  was  her  improvement  and  so  free  was  she  from 
disabilities  of  the  flesh  at  this  particular  time.  The 
intense  fatigue,  which  had  made  every  task  by  day  a 
painful  effort,  the  insomnia,  which  increased  the  fatigue 
of  the  day  and  forbade  relief  even  at  night,  the  neuralgic 
pains  which  nagged  at  her  poor  tired  body,  and  the  other 
various  neurasthenic  symptoms  had  gone.  It  seemed  as  if 
at  last  she  might  be  able  to  take  an  active  part  in  life. 

But  a  closer  study  showed  that  this  physical  restoration 
was  deceptive,  and  did  not  rest  on  a  solid  basis.  It  was 
easy  to  demonstrate  a  condition  of  nervous  instability 
which  was  in  marked  contrast  with  the  improved  physical 
health,  and  which  seemed  to  offer  a  paradox  for  solution 
when  one  tried  to  understand  it.  By  instability,  I  mean 
that  almost  any  emotion  of  an  unpleasant  kind,  or  sensory 
impression,  that  happened  to  be  associated  in  her  memory 
with  past  emotions,  was  capable  of  re-exciting  all  her 
physical  infirmities  and  bringing  all  back  in  a  jiffy.  She 
seemed  to  be  still  the  victim  of  a  series  of  little  nervous 
shocks — sort  of  railroad  accidents  —  which  produced  the 
little  attacks  of  "traumatic  neuroses"  of  which  I  have 

The  "symptom-complex,"  as  our  German  confreres  like 


to  say,  was  easily  understood;  but  it  seemed  strange, 
almost  paradoxical,  that  an  apparently  physically  normal, 
or  approximately  normal,  individual  could  be  so  "broken 
up  "  by  such  slight  causes.  This  slang  phrase  expresses 
with  scientific  exactness  what  really  occurred.  "Disin- 
tegrated "  is  the  psychological  term.  Miss  Beauchamp 
became  from  moment  to  moment  psycho -neurologically 
disintegrated,  so  that  all  sorts  of  automatisms  and  per- 
verted reactions  to  the  environment  were  permitted  to 
the  nervous  system.  This  condition  is  pathologically 
hysteria,  but  is  frequently  mistaken  for  true  neurasthenia 
as  the  symptoms  simulate  closely  those  of  real  exhaustion. 
In  fact,  a  wide  experience  has  convinced  me  that  a  large 
proportion  of  the  cases  which  ordinarily  pass  under  the 
name  of  neurasthenia  —  a  fatigue  neurosis  —  are  in  reality 
hysteria,  and  more  properly  should  be  designated  as  hys- 
terical neurasthenia.  Certainly  every  practitioner  will 
recognize  this  condition  of  instability^  which  is  a  marked 
feature  of  hysteria,  as  one  which  he  has  seen  in  minor 
degrees  among  his  so-called  neurasthenic  patients.  The 
peculiarity  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  case  consisted  in  such 
attacks  coming  out  of  a  clear  sky,  no  matter  how  well  she 
might  appear  to  be ;  and  in  the  exceedingly  slight  psychi- 
cal causes  which  induced  the  attacks.  In  consequence  of 
her  reticence  the  degree  of  her  instability  was  discovered 
only  gradually.  Sensations  and  memories  associated  with 
some  distressing  past  event  particularly  tended  to  re-excite 
the  original  emotion,  and  the  emotion,  with  shock-like 
suddenness,  produced  its  disintegrating  effects  and  out- 
bursts of  symptoms.     Witness  the  following  instance : 

One  day  (May  6),  Miss  Beauchamp  appeared  with  a  dejected 
fatigued  look  upon  her  face.  "It  is  evident  that  something 
has  gone  wrong.  In  obedience  to  directions,  she  brings  a  writ- 
ten report,  according  to  which  it  appears  that  she  felt  perfectly 
well  yesterday  up  to  dinner  time,  when,  while  she  was  in  a  res- 



taurant,  dark  clouds  came  up;  on  going  out  she  got  the  idea 
that  a  thunderstorm  was  coming;  was  stricken  with  terror; 
had  palpitation,  nausea,  hot  and  cold  feelings,  and  sinking 
feelings;  felt  as  if  she  could  not  run  home  fast  enough,  but 
forced  herself  not  to  run.  When  she  got  home  the  old  neuralgic 
pains  in  her  head  and  side  returned ;  these  were  severe,  and  ac- 
companied with  vei'y  great  fatigue.  All  these  symptoms  lasted 
about  two  hours,  and  were  followed,  after  reading  a  book,  by 
depression,  which  was  ascribed  to  the  book.  Lay  awake  until 
twelve ;  woke  twice  after  that  with  '  nocturnal  palsy ; '  this  she 
described  as  not  being  able  to  move  a  single  muscle,  not  even 
her  eyes,  and  having  no  feeling  throughout  her  whole  body ; 
this  lasted  five  or  ten  minutes;  has  often  had  these  attacks. 
To-day  feels  poorly ;  has  some  nausea,  but  no  pain ;  very  tired 
and  good-for-nothing.  States  she  has  great  fear  of  thunder- 
storms, which  always  throw  her  into  this  condition.  This  has 
been  so  for  the  last  four  or  five  years.  Insists  she  was  never 
afraid  of  lightning  until  five  years  ago,  when  she  was  in  Provi- 

"  Hypnosis.  B  II  states  that  she  remembers  perfectly  the 
first  occasion  when  she  was  afraid  of  lightning.  It  was  in  the 
Providence  Hospital  at  night.  A  tremendous  storm  came  up ; 
there  was  a  great  flash  of  lightning,  and  she  saw  a  delirious 
patient  running  down  the  corridor  towards  her ;  the  patient 
seized  her  but  did  not  do  her  any  harm.  Seeing  the  patient  in 
the  flash  gave  her  a  great  terror,  similar  to  but  worse  than  the 
experience  of  yesterday.  Ever  since  has  been  afraid  of  thun- 
derstorms, which  excite  the  foregoing  symptoms.* 

May  7th  and  9th.  "  While  feeling  well,  access  of  symptoms 
from  emotional  causes,  —  disappointment  on  the  one  occasion, 
and  fear  on  the  other." 

Then  again  her  suggestibility  was  extraordinary  and 
apparently  equally  paradoxical,  considering  the  lack  of 
hysterical  stigmata  of  an  objective  chamcter.  It  allowed 
many  interesting  experiments  in  anesthesia,  negative  hallu- 

*  It  later  transpired,  Chapter  XIII,  that  this  was  not  the  whole  shock,  but 
that  on  this  night  she  was  the  victim  of  a  nervous  catastrophe  which  affected 
her  subsequent  life. 


cinations  (or  systematized  anesthesia)  and  crystal  visions, 
to  be  made.  It  may  be  of  interest  if  one  or  two  of  each 
sort  of  these  experiments  are  briefly  mentioned.  At  any 
rate  it  will  enable  those  not  familiar  with  suggestibility 
better  to  appreciate  the  condition.  All  these  phenomena 
were  produced  by  suggestion  while  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
in  the  waking  state.  It  is  easy  enough  to  produce  such 
effects  in  suitable  subjects  through  suggestion  in  hypnosis, 
but  no  resort  was  made  to  hypnosis  in  these  experiments. 
The  suggestions  were  made  to  Miss  Beauchamp  when 
awake.  The  following  illustrates  the  production  of  local 
anesthesia : 

I  say  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  "Sensation  will  disappear  from 
the  forefinger  of  your  right  hand,"  at  the  same  time  sti'oking 
the  finger  with  light  touches.  The  finger  becomes  profoundly 
anesthetic,  so  that  a  pin  may  be  thrust  into  the  skin,  and  the 
joints  bent  without  anything  being  felt.  All  forms  of  sensation 
are  included  in  the  anesthesia,  which  is  profound  for  all  objects 
and  stimuli. 

In  the  following  experiment  the  anesthesia  is  of  a  some- 
what different  character ; 

I  hold  up  a  metal  rod  (an  electrode  for  an  electrical  machine) 
before  her  eyes  and  say,  "  Close  your  eyes  for  an  instant.  AVhen 
you  open  them  this  electrode  will  have  disappeared."  She  closes 
her  eyes  and  on  opening  them  cannot  see  the  metal  rod,  though 
it  is  held  directly  before  her.  She  sees  ray  hand,  as  if  holding 
something,  but  she  sees  nothing  else.  I  tell  her  to  feel  the  rod. 
She  puts  her  hand  upon  it  and  says  she  can  feel  it ;  in  fact,  she 
fingers  it,  and  follows  the  outline  of  the  metal  rod  and  the  ball  at 
the  top.  She  feels  something  that  she  cannot  see.  I  now  say, 
"  I  shall  pass  the  electrode  from  one  hand  to  the  other.  When 
it  is  in  the  left  hand  you  will  see  it,  but  when  in  the  right  hand 
it  will  disappear."  I  pass  the  rod  back  and  forth  from  one  hand 
to  the  other,  and  the  moment  it  is  grasped  by  the  left  hand  it  be- 
comes visible,  but  disappears  as  soon  as  seized  by  the  right. 


A  moment's  consideration  will  show  that  the  anesthesia 
or  failure  in  perception  in  this  second  experiment  differa 
from  that  in  the  first  in  an  important  respect.  The  sub- 
ject is  not  blind  for  all  objects,  but  only  for  a  particular 
object.  She  sees  everything  else,  everything  but  a  par- 
ticular system  of  visual  images,  the  rod.  Later,  the 
blindness  for  this  system  is  conditioned  by  the  relation  of 
the  system  to  the  right  hand.  The  rod  is  not  seen  when 
held  by  the  right  hand,  but  is  seen  when  held  by  the  left: 
the  psychological  conditions  have  become  more  complex, 
but  the  systematized  nature  of  the  visual  anesthesia 
remains.  TLls  anesthesia,  aside  from  the  sense  involved, 
plainly  differs  from  that  produced  in  the  forefinger.  In 
the  latter  experiment  there  was  no  selection  of  the  percep- 
tions to  be  included  in  the  anesthesia,  but  the  loss  of 
sensation  existed  impartially  for  stimuli  coming  from 
whatsoever  source. 

Anesthesia  (whether  visual,  tactile,  auditory,  etc.)  for 
particular  objects,  without  loss  of  perception  for  objects  in 
general,  has  been  termed  systematized  anesthesia  by  Binet 
and  F^rd,  because  there  is  a  failure  to  perceive  a  particular 
system  of  sensory  images.  This  system  may  include  all 
visual,  tactile,  and  auditory  impressions  coming  from  one 
particular  object.  Thus,  a  person  may  not  see  a  particular 
individual  in  a  room,  while  conscious  of  all  others  present. 
In  such  a  case  the  affected  subject  may  not  hear  this  indi- 
vidual's voice,  or  feel  his  touch.  He  is  blind,  deaf,  and 
insensible  to  every  impression  coming  from  him,  but  sees, 
hears,  feels  every  one  else. 

Bernheim  has  given  to  this  condition  the  name  negative 
hallucination^  because  it  is  an  inability  to  perceive  some- 
thing that  exists,  as  opposed  to  positive  hallucination 
which  is  the  perception  of  something  that  does  not  exist. 

The  phenomenon  has  been  extensively  studied,  and  has 
been  the  subject  of  a  great  deal  of  discussion.     The  com- 


mon  mode  of  producing  it  is  to  suggest  to  a  person  while 
in  hypnosis  that  he  will  not  perceive  such  and  such  objects, 
persons,  etc.,  after  waking;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  produced 
by  a  post-hypnotic  suggestion.  Another  method  devised 
by  Janet  is  by  the  principle  of  abstraction.  But  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  neither  hypnotized  nor  put  into  a  condi- 
tion of  abstraction.  She  was  in  her  normal  waking  state, 
and  was  the  object  of  suggestion  only. 

The  psychological  principle  underlying  systematized 
anesthesia  has  been  clearly  determined  by  Janet,  Binet, 
F^r^,  and  others,  though  many  of  the  details  of  the  pro- 
cess remain  to  be  worked  out.  The  principle  is  that  of 
dissociation  of  the  personal  consciousness.  This  is  the 
main  defect  in  both  local  and  systematized  anesthesia 
when  effected  by  suggestion.  There  is  not  real  blindness, 
deafness,  etc.  The  subject  does  subconsciously  see,  hear, 
and  feel ;  but  there  is  a  failure  of  personal  perception ;  that 
is,  the  personal  ego  does  not  synthesize  these  sub-conscious 
sensations  with  itself.  In  other  words,  there  is  a  dissocia- 
tion and  doubling  of  consciousness,  the  dissociated  sensa- 
tions being  parted  from  the  main  current  of  consciousness 
and  left  to  form  a  little  isolated  consciousness  of  their  own. 
The  sensations,  however,  really  arise  and  are  not  sup- 
pressed. Indeed,  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  possi- 
ble to  demonstrate  by  various  devices  that,  for  instance, 
objects  for  which  a  subject  is  blind  are  really  seen  in  order 
that  he  should  not  see  them.  For  this  purpose  I  may 
quote  some  observations  of  M.  Binet:  ^ 

"  From  ten  cards  that  were  exactly  alike  I  selected  one  and 
showed  it  to  the  somnambulist,  and  suggested  to  her  that  she 
would  not  see  it  when  she  awoke,  but  that  she  would  see  and 
recognize  all  the  others.  When  she  awoke  I  gave  her  the  ten 
cards ;  she  took  them  all,  excepting  the  one  that  we  had  shown 

1  "  Alterations  of  Personality  " ;  translated  by  Helen  Green  Baldwin,  1896 ; 
pp.  301,  303. 


her  during  the  somnambulistic  state  —  the  one  I  had  made 
invisible  by  suggestion. 

"  How,  we  may  ask,  is  it  possible  for  the  subject  to  carry  out 
so  complicated  a  suggestion?  How  does  it  come  about  that  he 
does  not  confuse  the  invisible  card  with  the  others  ?  It  must  be 
that  he  recognizes  it.  If  he  did  not  recognize  it  he  would  not 
refuse  to  see  it.  Whence  this  apparently  paradoxical  conclu- 
sion —  that  the  subject  must  recognize  the  invisible  object  in 
order  not  to  see  it! 

"The  necessity  for  this  process  of  perception,  comparison, 
and  recognition  may  be  easily  shown,  for  when  the  cards  are 
too  much  alike  they  are  often  confused  —  the  more  frequently 
if  only  a  corner  of  the  cards  is  shown.  The  subject  sees  the 
card  so  clearly  that  if  the  suggestion  is  given  him  not  to  see 
the  particular  card  on  which  the  word  '  invisible '  is  written 
when  he  wakes,  it  may  be  perfectly  carried  out,  notwithstand- 
ing the  apparent  contradiction  that  this  suggestion  contains. 
.  .  .  But  there  is  more.  The  invisible  object  is  perceived  and 
recognized.  What  happens  next?  Once  perception  and  recog- 
tion  have  occurred  we  might  suppose  that  the  subject  then  for- 
gets again,  that  he  becomes  absolutely  blind  and  deaf,  and  that 
his  anesthesia  is  now  complete.  But  this  is  not  at  all  the  case. 
The  perception  of  the  object  continues,  only  it  now  operates 

Janet  succeeded  in  proving  the  persistence  of  subcon- 
scious perceptions,  and  therefore  the  dissociation  of  per- 
sonality, in  a  more  precise  way;  that  is,  by  making  the 
two  consciousnesses  reveal  themselves  simultaneously  and 
exhibit  parallel  activity.  For  convenience  we  will  let  M. 
Binet  describe  Janet's  method : 

"  The  methods  employed  to  demonstrate  the  second  con- 
sciousness are  various,  but  the  simplest  and  most  direct  is  that 
of  distraction.  I  have  already  said  so  much  on  the  subject  that 
it  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  it  again  at  length.  Only  let  us  re- 
member that  the  subject's  attention  is  concentrated  upon  one 
thing  —  for  example,  by  making  him  chat  with  another  person 
—  and  while  he  is  in  this  state  of  distraction  some  one  speaks 


to  him  in  a  low  voice,  and  arranges  with  him  that  he  shall  an- 
swer questions  in  writing.  In  this  way  his  personality  is 
divided.  There  is  a  consciousness  that  talks  with  the  first 
questioner,  and  another  consciousness  that  exchanges  ideas 
with  the  second.  By  this  method  the  experimenter  may  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  second  consciousness,  ascertain  its 
powers,  and  know  in  particular  how  much  of  the  external 
world  it  perceives.  If  this  is  carried  on  after  the  subject 
has  received  a  suggestion  of  systematized  anesthesia,  it  may 
be  easily  seen  whether  the  forbidden  perception  has  taken 
place  in  the  second  consciousness,  and  whether  the  second 
personality  is  able  to  describe  an  object  in  minute  detail 
which  to  the  first  consciousness,  the  one  that  speaks,  is  quite 

' '  M.  Janet  made  this  observation  by  applying  the  suggestion 
of  anesthesia  to  an  object  lying  in  a  collection  of  similar  ob- 
jects. This  kind  of  experiment  is  most  instructive,  since  it 
shows  better  than  others  how  complicated  a  mechanism  sys- 
tematized anesthesia  involves.  Here,  for  example,  is  a  subject 
in  a  state  of  somnambulism  to  whom  five  white  cards  are  shown, 
two  of  which  are  marked  by  a  little  cross.  He  is  ordered  when 
he  awakes  no  longer  to  see  the  cards  marked  with  the  cross. 
Although  the  subject  —  that  is  to  say,  his  principal  personality 
—  obeys  the  suggestion,  and  on  awaking  only  sees  the  three 
white  cards,  the  second  personality  behaves  quite  differently. 
If  it  is  spoken  to  in  a  low  voice  and  asked  to  describe  what  he 
is  holding,  it  replies  that  there  are  two  cards  marked  with  a  lit- 
tle cross.  The  same  test  may  be  repeated  by  substituting  for 
the  cross  more  complicated  guiding  marks  which  require  calcu- 
lation to  be  recognized.  For  example,  one  might  suggest  to 
the  subject  not  to  see  the  squares  of  paper  that  have  an  even 
number  or  a  multiple  of  six  upon  them,  etc.  The  result  of 
these  experiments  is  exactly  the  same  as  in  the  preceding  cases, 
although  the  second  consciousness  cannot  take  in  at  a  single 
glance  and  recognize  the  card  which  the  other  consciousness 
ought  not  to  see.  This  proves  to  us  that  the  second  conscious- 
ness may  perform  an  action  requiring  reasoning.  Besides,  the 
experiments  have  been  varied  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  very 
nearly  the  same  result  has  always  been  obtained." 


But  though  the  lost  perceptions  in  negative  hallucina- 
tions are  dissociated  and  subconscious,  there  is  much  ob- 
scurity regarding  the  details  of  the  process.  Recognition 
of  the  object  is  necessary  for  dissociation;  but  who  or 
what  first  recognizes  it?  Does  the  personal  consciousness 
first  recognize  the  marked  card  ?  If  so,  why  is  the  card 
not  seen  and  remembered  by  it  ?  Is  the  marked  card  first 
seen  subconsciously  ?  If  so,  then  dissociation  occui*s  before 
perception,  though  the  latter  appears  to  determine  the 
former.  The  question  is  an  intricate  one,  and  it  is  un- 
necessary for  us  to  go  into  it  here.  It  is  probable  that 
we  must  have  a  more  complete  understanding  of  the 
mechanism  of  normal  perception  before  that  of  systema- 
tized anesthesia  can  be  fully  understood. 

Returning  to  the  experiments  with  Miss  Beauchamp,  it 
was  easy  to  demonstrate  that  the  psychological  mechanism 
of  the  local  and  systematized  anesthesia  was  the  same  as 
that  which  has  just  been  described.  The  only  difference 
was  in  the  device  employed  to  dissociate  the  sensory  im- 
pressions. In  Janet's  experiments  the  dissociation  was 
effected  by  a  suggestion  given  in  the  unstable  state  of 
hypnosis;  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  case  by  one  given  in  the 
waking  state.  It  required  only  a  simple  experiment  to 
prove  that  the  pin  pricks  were  really  felt,  and  the  metal 
rod  really  seen,  though  not  by  the  personal  consciousness 
of  Miss  Beauchamp. 

To  prove  this  she  was  hypnotized  and  changed  at  once 
to  B  II.  The  hypnotic  self,  when  questioned,  was  able 
to  tell  how  many  times  the  finger  had  been  pricked,  and 
whether  it  had  been  touched,  stroked,  or  bent.  She  could 
also  describe,  down  to  the  slightest  detail,  the  various 
performances  with  the  rod,  when  Miss  Beauchamp  failed 
to  see  it.  Inasmuch  as  the  lost  sensory  impressions  were 
now  remembered  in  hypnosis,  they  must  have  been  per- 
ceived, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Miss  Beauchamp  had  not 


felt  or  seen  the  respective  stimuli.  This  means  that  the 
perceptions  must  have  remained  subconscious,^  that  is, 
dissociated  from  the  personal  perception. 

But  here  another  question  arises,  one  to  which  very- 
little  attention  has  been  given,  though  it  is  of  great 
importance  in  solving  the  problem  of  the  limits  of  the 
subconscious,  the  most  important  of  present  psychological 
problems.  What  sort  of  consciousness  perceived  these 
subconscious  sensations?  Or  can  it  be  said  that  any 
consciousness  that  can  be  called  a  personality  perceived 
them? 2  That  is  to  say,  technically  speaking,  were  they 
perceived  at  all  ?  Were  they  not  simply  isolated,  discrete 
sensory  impressions?  Though  B  II  remembered  them,  it 
could  not  have  been  she  who  perceived  them,  for  this 
hypnotic  self  does  not  persist  as  such  after  waking.  But 
if  B  II  did  not  as  a  personality  perceive  the  sensations 
how  could  she  remember  them? 

The  problem  seems  a  paradox,  but  the  answer  is  simple. 
The  psychological  conditions  present  were  fundamentally 
the  same  as  those  which  exist  in  hysterical  anesthesia. 
Whatever  the  process,  the  suggestion  given,  not  to  feel 
the  pin  pricks  and  not  to  see  the  rod,  had  produced, 
directly  or  indirectly,  a  dissociation,  not  an  inhibition,  of 
consciousness.  The  sensory  impressions  from  the  fore- 
finger were  no  longer  synthesized  with  (and  therefore  had 
become  split  off  from),  the  personal  consciousness,  that 
great  group  of  perceptions  and  memories  which  at  any 
given  moment  makes  up  the  ego  or  pereonality.  These 
tactile  sensations,  then,  existed  in  a  dissociated  state,  and 

1  The  point  may  be  raised  whether  these  perceptions  could  have  formed 
part  of  the  subconsciousness  Chris.  This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  such 
questions.  The  principle  of  dissociation  remains  the  same  whatever  tho 
answer.  It  may  be  said,  however,  that  subconscious  Chris  was  totally  an- 
esthetic for  tactile  sensations,  but  could  see  and  hear  what  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  blind  and  deaf  to. 

2  This  question  will  be  discussed  at  length  in  Part  III. 


to  this  extent  there  was  a  doublmg  of  consciousness.  The 
systematized  blindness  for  the  metal  rod  was  of  the  same 
character.  On  the  one  hand  there  was  the  main  personal 
consciousness,  and  on  the  other  the  concomitant  dissoci- 
ated sensations.  Now,  when  Miss  Beauchamp  was  put 
into  the  hypnotic  state,  itself  a  condition  of  dissociation, 
the  memorial  images  of  the  previously  dissociated  pricks  of 
the  forefinger  became  at  once  synthesized  with  a  personal 
consciousness,  and  that  consciousness  the  hypnotic  one, 
B  II,  which  thereby  remembered  them.  It  was  the  same 
for  the  visual  memories  of  the  metal  rod. 

This  does  not  mean  —  contrary  to  the  assumption  of 
many  writers  —  that  the  hypnotic  state  persists  as  a  whole 
or  in  large  part,  subconsciously,  as  a  mysterious  "  hidden 
self,"  after  the  subject  wakes.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
has  too  often  been  thoughtlessly  assumed  to  be  the  case. 
This  erroneous  assumption  has  been  based  on  the  two 
fundamental  facts  that,  first,  the  hypnotic  self  remem- 
bers dissociated  perceptions ;  and  second,  after  waking,  by 
suitable  devices  (automatic  writing,  abstraction,  etc.)  sub- 
conscious responses  can  be  obtained  from  an  intelligence 
which  can  be  identified  in  part  with  that  of  the  previous 
hypnotic  state.  I  shall  hope,  at  the  proper  time,  to  show 
that  the  latter  phenomena  are  largely  artifacts. 

All  that  tlie  experimental  facts  of  anesthesia  due  to  dis- 
sociation allow  us  to  infer  is  that  the  memory  of  the 
previously  isolated  subconscious  perceptions  becomes  syn- 
thesized with  the  personality  when  the  subject  is  thrown 
into  hypnosis,  and  (it  may  be)  becomes  dissociated  again 
when  the  subject  is  awakened.  The  synthesizing  process 
is  the  same  as  when,  in  hysterical  amnesias,  lost  memories 
are  regained.  Here,  too,  as  soon  as  the  synthesis  takes 
place  the  personality  remembers  the  previously  forgotten 
experiences  as  its  own,  as  if  it  had  itself  experienced  them. 
Thus  Fanny  S.,  a  subject  of  mine,  is  thrown  into  an  hyster- 


ical  epileptoid  crisis  by  an  emotion.  In  this  state  the  per- 
sonal consciousness  is  extremely  disintegrated  and  convul- 
sive phenomena  are  manifested.  On  coming  out  of  this 
crisis  she  has  no  memory  of  what  occurred  during  its  con- 
tinuance. Later,  this  amnesia  is  dispelled  by  suggestion, 
and  she  remembers  everything  that  has  been  said  and  done ; 
but  she  remembers  everything  as  her  own  experience.  The 
same  is  true  of  another  subject,  S.  B — w,  who  similarly 
remembers  the  experiences  of  her  epileptoid  attack  as  her 
own.  Likewise  in  alternating  personalities,  as  we  shall 
see,  when  the  memories  of  two  personalities  are  amalga- 
mated the  resulting  personality  remembers  the  lost  experi- 
ences as  its  own,  as  does  any  one  who  recovers  forgotten 
memories.  So  with  anesthesia,  when  in  hypnosis  the 
synthesis  of  the  previously  dissociated  tactile  and  other 
sensations  with  the  hypnotic  consciousness  takes  place,  the 
latter  remembers  them  as  its  own. 

The  principle  of  dissociation  of  the  mind  is  very  impor- 
tant. Only  by  thoroughly  grasping  it  can  one  understand 
multiple  personality  and  other  phenomena  of  abnormal 
psychology.  It  underlies  the  great  psychosis  hysteria,  as 
well  as  many  manifestations  of  normal  life,  like  absent- 
mindedness,  hypnosis,  sleep,  dreams,  visions,  etc.  Any 
extended  exposition  of  the  principle  must  be  postponed 
until  the  theory  of  this  case  is  considered,  but  it  is  impor- 
tant that  the  student  should  be  familiar  with  the  data  upon 
which  the  psycho-physiological  law  rests. 

The  mind  may  be  disintegrated  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  It 
may  be  divided,  subdivided,  and  still  further  subdivided. 
The  lines  of  cleavage  may  run  in  all  sorts  of  directions, 
producing  various  sorts  of  combinations  of  systems  of 
consciousness.  All  sorts,  and  many  distinct  groups  of 
swiconscious  states,  each  separate  from  the  other,  may 
result.  Thus  Fanny  S.  is  put  into  deep  hypnosis,  a  state 
of  dissociation.     Memories  of  experiences  forgotten  in  the 


waking  state  are  now  recovered.  That  is,  a  new  combina- 
tion is  formed.  The  subject  is  now  while  in  hypnosis  still 
further  disintegrated  by  dissociating,  through  suggestion, 
the  tactile  sensations  from  the  arm.  She  is  told  that  she 
cannot  feel  in  this  arm,  and  it  becomes  anesthetic.  The 
arm  is  now  pricked  four  times  with  a  pin,  and  a  pencil 
and  coin  are  placed  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  without  the 
subject's  being  conscious  of  what  is  done.  To  tap  the 
dissociated  sensation,  she  is  now  (while  still  in  hypnosis) 
distracted  by  being  held  in  conversation  by  my  assistant; 
at  the  same  time  I  whisper  in  her  ear  that  she  shall  make 
as  many  marks  with  a  pencil  as  the  arm  was  pricked. 
While  conversing,  the  hand  automatically  makes  four 
marks.  The  subject  is  asked  to  tell  verbally  what  was 
done  to  the  hand.  She  interjects  automatically  aloud  in 
the  midst  of  her  conversation,  "You  put  a  pencil  and  a 
fifty-cent  piece  in  my  hand."     (Correct.) 

This  experiment  differs  from  those  quoted  by  M.  Binet, 
in  that  it  was  the  hypnotic  state  and  not  the  waking  self 
that  was  disintegrated  and  that  had  the  systematized 

All  these  observations  represent  very  simple  forms  of 
dissociation,  but  they  prepare  us  to  understand  the  more 
complex  forms. 

It  will  be  well  in  this  connection  to  point  out  with  more 
detail  the  similarity  between  these  forms  of  artificially 
induced  anesthesia  and  a  pathological  condition  very  fre- 
quently the  result  of  accidents,  namely  hysterical  anesthe- 
sia. The  experiments  with  Miss  Beauchamp,  I  have  said, 
consisted  in  the  production  by  artificial  means  (suggestion) 
of  the  same  conditions  as  underlie  hysterical  anesthesia. 
The  anesthesia  of  hysteria  is  spontaneous  in  the  sense  that 
it  is  brought  about  by  some  accident,  emotional  shock,  or 
other  unintentional  genetic  factor.  That  this  pathological 
form  of  anesthesia  has  the  same  pathology  as  the  experi- 


mentally  induced  variety  has  been  demonstrated  by  numer- 
ous observers  (Janet,  Binet,  Prince,  Sidis,  etc.).  The 
following  observation  by  the  writer  is  a  good  illustration, 
though  now  somewhat  old :  ^ 

Mrs.  E.  B.  met  with  an  accident,  and  as  a  result  had  a  com- 
plete hysterical  anesthesia  of  the  hand.  The  skin  could  be 
severely  pinched  and  pricked  without  any  sensation  resulting. 
Under  proper  precautions,  I  pricked  with  a  pin  "  the  hand  sev- 
eral times,  then  laid  gently  upon  it  a  pair  of  small  nippers 
with  flat  surfaces  (such  as  are  used  in  microscopical  work)  and 
pinched  the  skin  with  the  same.  She  did  not  feel  the  pricks  of 
the  pin,  nor  did  she  know  that  anything  had  been  done  to  her 
hand.  She  was  then  hypnotized.  While  in  the  trance  I  asked 
her,  '  What  did  I  do  to  your  hand  ? ' 

"'You  pricked  it.' 

"  '  How  many  times?  ' 

"  'A  good  many  times,  more  than  twelve.' 

"  '  Where  did  I  prick  it?     Show  me.' 

"  Patient  indicated  correctly  with  her  finger  the  part  that  had 
been  pricked. 

"'What  else  did  I  do?' 

"  '  You  laid  something  on  it.' 


"  '  Something  long  and  flat.' 

"'What  else  did  I  do?' 

"  '  Pinched  it.' 

'"With  what?' 

' ' '  Something  you  had  in  your  hand.  I  don't  know  what  it 

"The  patient  was  then  awakened,  and  the  experiment  re- 
peated with  variations.  After  being  again  hypnotized  she  was 
asked  what  had  been  done. 

"  '  You  pricked  my  hand.' 

"  '  How  many  times?* 

" '  Eighteen.' 

"'AH  at  once?' 

1  Boston  Medical  and  Surgical  Jonrnal,  May  15,  1890;  Proceedings  of 
the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  December,  1898. 


'"No;  first  five  times,  then  thirteen.' 

"  '  What  else  was  done? ' 

"  'You  pinched  it.' 

"  '  How  many  times  ? ' 

" '  Five.' 

' ' '  What  did  I  pinch  it  with  ? ' 

"  '  Your  fingers.' 

"  These  answers  were  all  correct." 

Such  observations,  as  well  as  experimental  devices 
vehich  allow  the  subconscious  perceptions  to  be  tapped, 
show  not  only  that  the  tactile  sensations,  unfelt  by  the 
hysteric,  are  really  awakened,  but  that  they  are  dissociated 
from  the  personal  stream  of  consciousness;  that  is,  they 
become  subconscious.  Equally  important  is  the  fact  that 
in  certain  states  of  hypnosis  the  hysteric  spontaneously 
recovers  the  tactile  sense  in  the  parts  which  were  previ- 
ously in  the  waking  state  anesthetic.  Mrs.  R.,  a  subject 
with  hysterical  hemianesthesia,  equally  with  Mrs.  E.  B., 
when  hypnotized  feels  perfectly  in  the  previously  anes- 
thetic areas.  Mrs.  R.,  when  awake,  can  feel  nothing  in 
her  right  arm.  Hypnotize  her,  and  at  once  she  feels  the 
lightest  touch.  Anesthesia  has  completely  disappeared  in 
hypnosis.  In  other  words,  the  dissociated  tactile  impres- 
sions have  become  re-synthesized  with  the  personal  conscious- 
ness in  hypnosis. 

Observations  of  this  kind  enable  us  fully  to  understand 
that  the  localized  and  systematized  anesthesias  produced 
by  suggestion  in  Miss  Beauchamp  were  due  to  dissociation, 
and  were  identical  with  hysterical  phenomena.  A  sugges- 
tibility of  this  degree  would  necessarily  mean  instability 
and  lack  of  resistance  to  the  environment. 

Crystal  visions  are  perhaps  in  themselves  not  indicative 
of  abnormal  instability,  still  the  great  ease  with  which 
they  could  be  induced  in  Miss  Beauchamp  could  have 
Only  this  meaning.     Considering  the   part  which  visions 


have  played  in  history,  folklore,  and  necromancy,  artifi- 
cially induced  crystal  visions  acquire  considerable  interest, 
for  they  throw  light  upon  the  genesis  of  such  hallucina- 
tions. Miss  Beauchamp  proved  to  be  an  excellent  subject, 
and  a  series  of  experiments  was  begun  May  24. 

It  was  found  possible,  by  having  Miss  Beauchamp  gaze 
steadfastly  at  an  object,  —  a  glass  bulb  being  used  for  this 
purpose,  —  to  induce  visions,  which  represented,  for  the 
most  part,  scenes  in  her  past  life.  Some  of  these  past 
experiences,  or  details  of  them,  had  been  completely  for- 
gotten. But  although  forgotten  by  Miss  Beauchamp, 
every  detail  was  remembered  accurately  by  Chris,  who 
could,  in  almost  every  instance,  fully  explain  the  vision, 
and  recall  every  incident  connected  therewith.  A  com- 
plete study  of  these  visions  will  be  found  in  Part  III,  but 
two  of  them  are  given  here  to  illustrate  this  interesting 
phenomenon.  The  details  of  the  composition  of  these 
visions  are  well  worth  a  careful  and  analytical  study. 

When  Miss  Beauchamp  looks  into  a  glass  globe  she 
does  not  see  the  details  of  her  vision  as  small  objects  re- 
flected in  the  glass,  but,  after  a  moment  or  two  the  globe 
and  her  surroundings  disappear  from  her  consciousness, 
and  she  sees  before  her  a  scene  in  which  she  herself  is 
present  as  a  spectator.  It  seems  to  her  that  she  is  a  part 
of  the  scene  in  which  human  beings,  —  herself,  perhaps 
one  of  them,  —  are  enacting  parts,  as  in  real  life.  The 
characters  are  life-size,  and  act  like  living  persons.  When 
she  sees  herself  as  one  of  the  characters  of  the  vision,  she 
experiences  over  again  all  the  emotions  and  feelings  that 
she  observes  her  vision-self  experiencing;  and  these  emo- 
tions she  exhibits,  all-forgetful  of  her  surroundings,  to  the 
onlooker.  This  kaleidoscopic  play  of  her  feelings  is  most 
interesting  to  watch. 

"She  appears  like  one  who,  at  a  theatre,  is  completely  ab- 
sorbed by  the  play,  and  in  that  sense  is  unconscious  of  sur- 


roundiugs,  but  not  at  all  in  a  trance  state.  Her  absorption 
and  the  exceeding  mobility  and  expression  of  her  face  give  the 
impression  that  she  is  entirely  oblivious  of  all  about  her,  until 
spoken  to,  but  not  as  one  hypnotized ;  rather  as  one  who  is  in- 
tensely absorbed  in  a  scene  and  has  forgotten  where  she  is. 
Every  variety  of  feeling,  timidity,  surprise,  interest,  seems  to 
be  expressed  by  the  play  of  her  features,  and  at  times,  .  .  . 
she  seems  rather  frightened  by  the  uncanniness  of  what  she 

After  each  experiment  Miss  Beauchamp  was  changed  to 
Chris,  whose  more  complete  memory  of  the  past  enabled 
her  to  give  an  explanation  of  many  things  forgotten  by  or 
unknown  to  Miss  Beauchamp.  After  explaining  the  third 
vision  Chris  volunteered  the  following  story,  telling  it 
with  great  gusto,  as  a  joke  on  Miss  Beauchamp,  and 
speaking  with  such  rapidity  that  it  was  difficult  to  follow 
the  sequence  of  events.  The  language  as  quoted  is  sub- 
stantially that  of  Chris,  though  condensed. 

"  She  yesterday  received  a  letter  from  a  photographer. 
She  had  it  in  her  hand  while  walking  down  Washington 
Street,  and  then  put  it  into  her  pocket  (side  pocket  of  coat) 
where  She  kept  her  watch  and  money  (banknotes).  As 
She  walked  along  She  took  out  the  money  and  tore  it  into 
pieces,  thinking  it  was  the  letter  from  the  photographer.  She 
threw  the  money  into  the  street.  As  She  tore  up  the  money, 
She  said  to  herself,  '  I  wish  they  would  not  write  on  this  bond 
paper.' " 

Chris  repeated  verbatim,  the  words  of  the  photographer's 
letter,  which  informed  Miss  B.  that  some  photographs 
were  ready  for  delivery.  As  to  the  money,  there  were 
two  ten-dollar  notes;  this,  at  my  demand,  Chris  counted 
mentally,  with  some  difficulty  and  concentration  of  thought. 

*  An  account  of  these  visions  was  published  in  Brain,  Winter  Number, 
1898 ;  Part  LXXXIV  ;  "An  experimental  study  of  Visions,"  from  which  I 
quote  with  a  few  slight  verbal  alterations. 


The  photographer's  letter,  Chris  said,  was  in  "her"  pocket 
still,  and  still  believed  by  "Her"  to  be  money.  Chris 
handed  it  to  me.  It  was  folded  into  a  small  square,  just 
as  one  often  folds  banknotes.  TJie  language  of  the  letter 
was  exactly  as  Chris  had  quoted  it  from  memory.^  Chris  ex- 
plained further  that  "She"  was  absentminded,  and  think- 
ing of  something  else,  when  "She"  tore  up  the  money.  I 
gave  Chris  the  letter,  which  she  put  back  in  her  pocket, 
preparatory  to  my  waking  Miss  Beauchamp.  This  impish 
personality  gleefully  remarked  upon  what  a  joke  it  would 
be  when  "She "  found  the  letter  there  instead  of  the  bank- 
notes. The  heartless,  cold-blooded  delight  which  this 
personality  found  in  the  loss  of  the  money, —  a  serious  one 
to  Miss  Beauchamp, —  might  be  shocking  to  the  uninitiated 
spectator.  To  Chris  the  whole  thing  was  only  a  splendid 
practical  joke. 

Miss  Beauchamp  was  now  awakened.  When  asked 
whether  she  did  not  have  some  money,  and  whether  she 
had  not  received  a  letter  from  a  photographer,  she  replied 
"  Yes ; "  but  seemed  to  think  my  asking  these  questions 
rather  odd.  A  series  of  questions  brought  out  the  replies 
that  she  had  not  the  letter  with  her,  having  torn  it  up  and 
thrown  it  away;  and  that  she  had  the  banknotes  in  her 
pocket.  They  were  two  ten-dollar  notes.  When  asked 
to  show  them  to  me  she  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket  and 
brought  out  instead  the  photographer's  letter.  It  was 
plain  that  she  received  a  shock,  although  she  tried  not  to 
show  it.  I  pressed  her  to  explain  where  the  bills  were. 
After  searching  in  vain  she  insisted  that  she  must  have  left 
them  at  home.  I  remarked  that  she  must  have  destroyed 
them  by  mistake  instead  of  the  letter,  but  she  refused  to 
admit  it,  though  plainly  anxious.  I  pointed  out  the  cir- 
cumstantial evidence,  but  she  could  not  and  would  not 
believe  it.     The  loss  meant  much  to  her,   and  she  was 

1  Ou  several  occasiong  Chris  has  exhibited  a  similar  feat  of  raeniory. 



evidently  encouraging  herself  with  a  forlorn  hope.  I  then 
said,  taking  the  glass  globe,  "We  will  see  whether  it  is 
true.  Look  in  and  you  will  see  what  you  have  done." 
At  first  she  saw  only  indifferent  things.  Then  I  said, 
"Think  of  banknotes,  and  the  feeling  of  tearing  them 
up."  Now,  to  her  astonishment,  she  saw  herself  walking 
along  Washington  Street  and  putting  the  letter  in  her 
pocket;  then  taking  out  what  looked  like  banknotes  (that 
is,  green  pieces  of  paper),  tearing  them  into  pieces,  and 
throwing  them  into  the  street.  The  vision,  in  all  its 
details,  corresponded  to  the  account  given  by  Chris. 

The  next  day  Miss  Beauchamp  reported  that  she  had 
been  unable  to  find  the  money  at  home,  and  that  she  was 
satisfied  of  the  truth  of  the  vision.  In  hypnosis,  Chris 
now  volunteered  the  further  information  that  Miss  Beau- 
champ  ("She")  was  so  much  upset  by  the  loss  of  the 
money  that  in  the  middle  of  the  night  "she"  had  to  get 
up  in  her  sleep,  without  knowing  it,  and  that  "she"  had 
taken  the  remainder  of  "  her  "  money  and  hidden  it  under 
"  that  floppy  thing  "  on  the  table.  It  was  now  "  under  a 
red  book,  a  blue  book,  and  that  floppy  thing  "  (by  this  is 
meant  either  a  tablecloth  or  a  folded  piece  of  material). 
"She  "  knows  nothing  about  it,  but  thinks  "she  "  has  lost 
the  money  and  has  none  left.  Chris  does  not  know  how 
much  money  there  is.  Miss  Beauchamp  is  now  awakened. 
I  charge  her  with  the  loss  of  the  money,  the  last  of  her 
present  financial  resources.  She  is  reticent,  plainly  does 
not  like  my  knowing  about  her  finances,  and  will  not 
admit  the  loss.  It  is  clear  that  she  is  anxious,  for  she 
has  discovered  that  the  money  is  not  where  she  last  left 
it,  in  the  bureau  drawer.  Without  further  discussion, 
and  without  disclosing  my  knowledge^  I  presented  a  glass 
globe  to  her  telling  her  to  think  of  the  money  and  she 
would  see  what  had  become  of  it.  Looking  into  the 
globe,  she  saw  herself  in  bed  in  her  room.     She  then  saw 


herself  get  up,  her  eyes  closed,  and  walk  up  and  down  the 
room;  then  going  to  the  bureau  drawer  her  vision-self 
took  out  the  money,  went  to  the  table,  raised  the  cloth 
with  the  books,  put  the  money  on  the  table  and  covered  it 
with  the  cloth,  putting  the  red  book  and  the  green  book 
on  top  of  it.  The  vision  thus  exactly  corresponded  to  the 
statement  of  Chris. ^  Miss  Beauchamp  reported  at  the 
next  visit  that  she  had  found  the  money  where  she  saw  it 
in  the  globe. 

The  vision  of  Chris  smoking  cigarettes  has  been  already 
given.  It  is  interesting,  as  the  hallucination  which  wells 
up  into  the  mind  of  the  primary  personality  represents  an 
experience  of  the  secondary  personality. 

The  following  experiment  (5)  is  of  interest  for  the  rea- 
son that,  first,  it  represents  a  delirious  act;  and,  second, 
that  the  explanation  given  by  Chris  implies  that  simulta- 
neously with  the  delirious  consciousness  there  must  have 
existed  a  second  sane  consciousness  which  saw  everything 
as  it  really  was,  free  from  delusion  of  every  kind.  I  see  no 
other  interpretation.  Chris's  memory  showed  differences 
in  perceptions,  — two  different  perceptions  going  on  at  the 
same  time.  The  vision  represents  a  previous  experience 
when  Miss  Beauchamp  was  delirious  from  pneumonia. 

"  Miss  B.  looked  again  into  the  globe  ;  she  saw  a  room  with 
a  bed  in  it.  There  was  a  figure  in  the  bed;  the  figure  threw  off 
the  bedclothes  and  got  up.  Miss  B.  exclaimed,  '  Why,  it  is  I ! ' 
(Appeared  rather  frightened  at  what  she  saw,  but  went  on  to 
describe  it,  largely  in  answer  to  my  promptings,  such  as,  '  Go 
on,'  '  What  do  you  see? '  etc.)  She  saw  herself  walking  to  and 
fro,  up  and  down  the  room.  Then  she  climbed  on  to  the  win- 
dow sill  which  is  the  deep  embrasure  of  a  mansard  roof.  Then 
she  climbed  outside  the  window  and  from  the  sill  looked  down 
into  the  street.     It  was  night  —  the  street  lamps  were  liglited, 

1  Excepting  the  color  of  the  book,  "  bhie  "  or  "  green."  This  esca])e(l  my 
attention  at  the  time ;  perhaps  it  was  blue-green,  and  looked  blue  to  Chris 
and  green  to  Miss  B.,  or  it  may  be  an  error  on  my  part. 


there  was  also  the  gasliglit  in  the  room.  As  she  looked  down 
she  felt  dizzy.  Here  Miss  li.  turned  away  frightened,  saying 
she  felt  dizzy  as  if  she  were  standing  there.  She  soon  continued. 
She  saw  her  vision-self  throw  into  the  street  below  an  inkstand, 
whicli  she  had  just  seen  herself  pick  up  before  climbing  on  to 
the  window  sill.  Miss  B.  was  again  obliged  to  stop  looking 
because  of  dizziness.  After  a  time  she  returned  to  the  globe. 
She  saw  herself  go  back  into  the  room  and  walk  up  and  down ; 
tlie  door  opened  and  she  jumped  into  bed  and  lay  quiet.  Miss 
L.  (a  friend)  entered,  went  out  and  returned  several  times ; 
brought  a  poultice  which  she  put  on  Miss  B.'s  chest ;  Miss  B. 
herself  remaining  quiet.  Then  Miss  L.  went  out  and  Miss 
B.  got  up  and  took  the  poultice,  rolled  it  up  into  a  little  bunch 
and  hid  it  in  a  corner,  putting  a  towel  over  it.  Here  the  experi- 
ment ended. ^ 

"  Miss  B.  stated,  on  being  questioned,  that  she  could  not  re- 
member any  incident  like  the  vision,  excepting  that  she  recog- 
nized the  room  as  the  first  one  she  occupied  when  she  came  to 
Boston  four  or  five  years  ago.     It  was  in  the  top  story  of  a  house 

on Street;  she  was  ill  there,  and  Miss  L.  took  care  of  her. 

But  she  did  not  remember  ever  having  climbed  on  to  the  win- 
dow, or  having  thrown  an  inkstand,  or  any  of  the  incidents 
of  the  vision.     She  could  throw  no  light  on  the  affair. 

'■^  Deep  hypnosis:  B  III  appeared.  With  great  vivacity  and 
amusement  B  III  explained  the  whole  scene.  '  She '  had  pneu- 
monia and  was  delirious;  and  'She'  imagined  'She 'was  on 
the  seashore  and  was  walking  up  and  down  the  sand.  This 
was  why  '  She  '  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  '  She '  stuck 
her  toes  in  the  carpet  thinking  it  was  the  sand.  There  were  rocks 
there,  and  the  window  sill  was  one  of  them,  and  when  '  She  * 
climbed  out  upon  the  window  sill  '  She '  thought  '  She '  was 
climbing  upon  a  rock,  and  '  She '  took  up  a  stone,  as  '  She ' 
thought,  and  threw  it  into  the  sea.  This  was  the  inkstand  that 
'  She  '  threw  into  the  street.  Then  when  '  She  '  took  the  poul- 
tice and  hid  it  in  the  corner  '  She '  thought '  She  *  had  buried  it 
in  the  sand.     Ink  had  been  found  in  her  shoes,  but  '  She '  had 

1  Miss  L.,  a  physician,  has  confirmed  her  own  part  in  this  scene  and  the 
general  facts  of  the  illuesa  as  she  knew  them.  Another  physician  had  diag- 
nosed pneumonia. 


not  poured  ink  into  her  shoes,  but  her  hand  shook  and  '  She ' 
had  spilled  it  into  her  shoes.  Miss  L.  seeing  the  inkstains  had 
inferred  that  Miss  B.  had  poured  the  ink  into  the  shoes,  and 
had  told  Miss  B.  so.  B  III  was  highly  amused  at  all  the 
mistakes  of  Miss  B.'s  delirium." 

I  may  point  out  here  that  visions  belong  to  the  class  of 
phenomena  known  as  sensory  automatisms.  Considerable 
difference  of  opinion  exists  regarding  their  genesis,  which 
is  unquestionably  complex,  but  they  are  automatic  in  that 
while  they  arise  within  the  field  of  the  personal  conscious- 
ness, they  come  and  go  entirely  independently  of  personal 
control.  It  can  be  experimentally  demonstrated  that  in 
many  instances  their  exciting  causes  may  be  in  forgotten 
memories  and  subconscious  ideas,  which  also  determine 
the  content  of  the  visions.  Aside  from  the  question  of 
suggestibility,  some  of  these  experiments,  of  which  quite 
a  number  were  made,  are  very  instructive  from  two  other 
points  of  view,  namely:  in  showing  first,  the  distinctive- 
ness of  the  two  coexistent  conscious  selves,  as  far  at  least 
as  concerns  the  separateness  of  the  simultaneous  percep- 
tions ;  and,  second,  the  greater  completeness  of  the  mem- 
ories of  Chris /or  a  certain  class  of  facts. 

This  last  point,  which  I  have  italicized,  I  am  disposed 
to  dwell  upon  here  even  at  the  expense  of  interrupting  my 
narrative,  as  there  is  danger  of  erroneously  inferring  that 
because  a  person  in  hypnosis  or  a  secondary  self  of  any 
kind,  remembers  more  completely  and  fully  certain  details 
of  the  past,  recalls  facts  and  even  lost  knowledge,  like  the 
rudiments  of  a  forgotten  language  acquired  in  childhood, 
that  therefore  the  hypnotic  self  has  a  wider  memory  in  all 
respects,  and  is  a  superior  intelligence.  There  is  a  certain 
class  of  facts  which  a  person  in  hypnosis  remembers  more 
completely  than  does  the  waking  self ;  but  these  facts,  for 
the  most  part,  are  the  details  of  every-day  life,  which, 
unimportant  in  themselves,  the   waking  self  neglects  to 


observe  and  remember,  because  occupied  at  the  time  in 
profounder  thought,  in  more  important  reflections  which 
necessarily  require  comparatively  abstract  ideas.  The 
child  mind  occupies  itself  with  such  details,  but  the  adult 
mind  neglects  them.  The  child  mind,  probably,  like  the 
mind  of  animals,  is  occupied  with  the  observation  of 
details;  if  observing  a  man,  for  instance,  it  notes  every 
detail  of  his  appearance  and  movements.  The  adult 
mind  makes  an  abstraction  (relatively  speaking)  of  any 
given  man,  and  weaves  this  abstraction  into  a  mass  of 
thoughts.  If  this  were  not  so,  intellectual  accomplish- 
ment would  be  impossible  for  the  adult. 

But  with  the  adult  the  minor  details  of  life  are  not  en- 
tirely neglected.  They  are  more  or  less  observed  and  re- 
corded in  an  absent-minded  sort  of  way,  and  as  isolated 
perceptions,  form  what  is  known  as  the  normal  secondary 
consciousness ;  that  is,  they  are  subconsciously  perceived. 
(^Part  Ill.y  In  hypnosis  the  memories  of  this  secondary 
consciousness  are  synthesized  with  the  hypnotic  self  and 
are  remembered  by  it.  In  this  respect  a  person  in  hypnosis 
may  have  a  more  complete  memory  than  when  awake.  Then 
again,  in  hypnosis,  certain  acquisitions,  like  a  forgotten 
language,  may  be  more  or  less  remembered,  and  hundreds 
of  forgotten  experiences  of  the  past  —  forgotten  by  the 
waking  self  —  may  become  synthesized  with  the  hypnotic 
self  and  be  recalled,  just  as  forgotten  experiences  are  re- 
produced in  dreams.  But  the  accumulated  stores  of  learn- 
ing, the  laborious  product  of  burning  the  midnight  oil,  the 
expert  knowledge  of  the  linguist,  of  the  scientist,  the  phy- 
sician, the  lawyer,  as  well  as  the  wisdom  drawn  from  the 
past  experiences  of  the  ordinary  man, —  the  memory  for  all 
this  is  not  spontaneously  revived  and  made  use  of  by  the 
so-called  hypnotic  self  ^  as  it  is  by  the  unmutilated  con- 

*  The  term  "  hypnotic  self  "  is  only  a  convenient  expression  for  a  hypno- 
tized person,  or  a  person  in  hi/pnosis.    There  is  no  special  hypnotic  self, 


sciousness  of  the  normal  waking  person.  Above  all,  the 
accumulated  knowledge  of  the  past  is  not  at  the  command 
of  the  hypnotic  self  for  deliberate  judgment,  for  the  de- 
termination of  conduct,  and  the  expression  of  the  will. 
Hence,  largely,  the  passiveness  of  the  hypnotic  mind.  To 
maintain  the  contrary  is  to  maintain  in  principle  that  a 
dissociated  mind  is  as  good  as  a  normal  one.  But  to  return 
to  our  visions  : 

Miss  Beauchamp  occasionally  had  spontaneous  visions, 
similar  to  those  experimentally  induced.  These  played 
an  important  part  in  her  career.  Sometimes  a  vision  seen 
by  one  personality  represented  scenes  enacted  by  another 
(and  therefore  unknown  to  the  former),  as  in  the  vision  of 
Chris  smoking  the  cigarettes.  Sometimes  visions  were 
intentionally  induced  by  me  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring 
information  about  obscure  events,  and  sometimes  one  of 
the  personalities  (excepting  Chris,  who  could  see  nothing, 
as  she  complained)  would  make  use  of  the  same  device 
for  the  same  purpose.  These  phenomena,  so  far  as  I  feel 
at  liberty  to  use  them,  will  be  described  in  the  course  of 
this  narrative. 

The  following  incident,  which  occurred  May  18,  illus- 
trates what  has  been  said  about  the  ease  with  which 
sensory  impressions  revived  within  her  emotions  and  ideas 
that  had  become  associated  by  some  event  of  the  past.  It 
has  been  stated  in  the  introduction  that  Miss  Beauchamp 
had  been  in  the  habit  from  time  to  time  of  going  into  som- 
nambulistic or  trance-like  states  lasting  a  few  moments. 
This  was  first  learned  about  this  time  when  she  reported 
that  while  crossing  the  Public  Gardens,  headed  for  Park 
Square,  an  attack  of  this  kind  came  on;  when  she  came 
to  herself  she  found  that  she  was  in  a  different  part  of  the 
Gardens,  and  walking  in  an  opposite  direction. 

On  the  night  of  the  eighteenth,  being  at  the  time  in 


good  physical  health,  while  brushing  her  hair  preparatory 
to  going  to  bed,  Miss  Beauehamp  fell  into  a  trance. 
When  she  awoke  she  found  herself  sitting  in  a  chair. 
The  clock  was  striking  nine  when  she  went  into  the 
trance,  and  it  was  half-past  nine  when  she  awoke.  It 
seemed  certain  that  the  cause  of  this  trance  state  must 
have  been  psychical;  something  like  subconscious  ideas, 
or,  if  not,  at  least  certain  remembrances  of  past  events, 
connected  perhaps  with  a  previous  nervous  shock,  and 
now  awakened  by  an  association  of  some  sort.  Investi- 
gation revealed  the  following :  Just  before  going  into  the 
trance  she  found  herself  thinking  of  an  old  girl  friend. 
How  she  came  to  be  thinking  of  this  friend  she  did  not 
know,  but  this  girl  once  gave  her  a  severe  nervous  shock, 
and  she  has  noticed  that  the  occasion  of  going  into  trances  of 
late  years  almost  always  has  been  while  thinking  of  this  girl, 
or  while  hearing  certain  music,  or  the  sound  of  the  wind, 
or  while  feeling  the  air  blowing  on  her  face,  and  other 
sensations,  all  of  which  are  associated  with  this  friend. 
It  came  about  originally  in  this  way:  A  long  time  ago, 
while  in  church  and  while  the  organist  was  playing  the 
Hallelujah  Chorus  from  Handel's  Oratorio,  this  friend 
leaned  toward  her  and  told  her  something  that  gave  her  a 
severe  shock,  —  much  as  if  she  had  told  her  the  news  of 
some  one's  death.  At  the  time  she  smelled  the  odor  of 
incense  in  the  church,  heard  the  wind  blowing  through 
the  open  window,  and  felt  it  on  her  face.  All  this  she 
was  distinctly  conscious  of  at  the  time,  as  well  as  of  the 
neiTOUs  shock.  Then  she  remembered  nothing  more  for 
a  few  minutes.  Now  anything  that  recalls  this  girl,  or 
the  scene  in  church  to  her  mind,  — such  as  the  Hallelujah 
Chorus,  the  smell  of  incense,  the  sound. of  the  wind,  or 
the  wind  blowing  on  her  face,  —  is  apt  to  send  her  into  a 
trance.  But,  as  has  just  been  said,  what  made  her  think 
of  the  girl  on  this  occasion  she  does  not  remember.     What 


Miss  Beauchamp  was  told  in  church  concerned  an  old 
friend,  one  of  whom  we  shall  hear  more,  and  whom  we 
have  agreed  to  call  "William  Jones."  This  person,  unin- 
tentionally, and  perhaps  all  unconsciously,  —  who  shall 
say  ?  —  has  played  an  important  part  in  the  pathological 
drama  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  life.  In  the  frequent  hunts 
for  the  hystero-genetic  influences  which  induced  the  vari- 
ous hysterical  accidents,  it  too  often  happened  that  the 
exciting  cause  was  found,  as  in  this  incident,  to  be  past 
and  present  associations  which  acquired  in  her  mind  an 
intensity  characteristic  of  hysteria. 

After  recounting  this  experience.  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
hypnotized.  B  II  then  supplied  the  missing  link  in  the 
chain  of  events.  The  window  was  open  while  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  brushing  her  hair,  and  the  air  blew  upon 
her  face  just  as  it  had  done  long  before  in  church.  The 
feeling  of  the  air  recalled  the  girl  and  the  scene  in  church ; 
then  she  went  into  a  trance  just  as  she  had  when  she  re- 
ceived the  shock.  In  quest  of  further  evidence  I  brought 
Chris,  who  in  tvirn  corroborated,  in  her  own  contemptuous 
way,  all  that  the  other  two  had  said. 

"  What  were  you  doing  at  the  time?  "  I  asked. 

"What  was  I  doing?  /wasn't  doing  anything.  She 
was  brushing  her  hair.  She  was  thinking  about  school, 
when  the  wind  began  to  blow  outdoors.  I,  too,  heard  it 
and  felt  it.  The  window  was  open;  the  air  blew  on  her 
face,  and  then  she  began  thinking  of  church;  and  the 
music,  the  Hallelujah  Chorus,  came ;  and  she  went  off  to 
sleep,  and  she  looked  very  silly,  and  she  settled  down  so 
[illustrating  contemptuously]." 

Chris  also  corroborated  everything  that  Miss  Beauchamp 
had  said  in  her  narrative  of  the  original  episode,  stating 
that  whenever  either  Miss  Beauchamp  or  herself  heard 
that  peculiar  sound  of  the  wind,  the  scene  in  church  came 
back  to  them,  no  matter  where  they  might  be.     Chris  was 


reminded  of  it  by  the  sound,  as  well  as  Miss  Beauchamp. 
"'  She'  heard  the  music,  and  I  heard  it,  too,"  Chris  ex- 
plained. "  When  '  she  '  heard  it  last  night '  she  '  saw  the 
whole  thing  over  again,  and  '  she  '  wanted  to  sit  down  and 
cry,  but '  she  '  would  n't.  '  She  '  just  sat  in  the  chair  and 
looked  like  a  fool.  '  She '  sat  down,  and  dropped  back, 
and  did  so  —  [illustrates  position],  'Her'  eyes  were  not 

"  What  were  you  doing  ?  " 

"I  was  meditating." 

"What  about?" 

"How  silly  '  she  '  looked." 

Chris  could  not  say  what  her  other  self's  psychical  state 
was  while  in  the  trance,  excepting  that  she  denied  it  was 
herself  (Chris).  Later  investigations  seemed  to  show  that 
at  such  times  it  was  neither  of  the  other  selves;  that  is  to 
say,  the  spontaneous  somnambulistic  conditioii  is  a  state 
by  itself. 

As  will  appear  in  the  course  of  this  biography,  a  sugges- 
tibility of  the  degree  indicated  by  these  observations  would 
necessarily  also  mean  so  great  an  instability  and  lack  of 
resistance  to  the  environment  that  ideas,  feelings,  and 
emotions  would  acquire  such  a  degree  of  fixity  and  inten- 
sity that  they  would  tend  from  moment  to  moment  to 
dominate  a  person's  life.  Therefore  Miss  Beauchamp, 
like  many  other  people  with  the  hysterical  temperament, 
would  tend  to  become  the  slave  of  her  own  mind.  That 
instability  and  suggestibility  should  persist,  no  matter  how 
well  she  might  be  physically,  was  difficult  to  understand ; 
for  during  all  this  time  there  was  no  reason  to  suspect 
that  Miss  Beauchamp  was  not  what  might  be  called,  with- 
out using  particularly  figurative  language,  a  real  person; 
a  complete  and  normal  personality,  excepting  so  far  as  she 
was  affected  by  physical  infirmities.  It  was  not  until  a 
year  later  that  the  secret  leaked  out. 



MISS  Beauchamp's  life  at  this  time  was  a  quiet  one. 
She  had  left  college  to  come  to  Boston  for  medical 
treatment;  and  when  not  in  the  consulting  room,  where 
many  hours  a  week  were  occupied,  she  passed  her  time 
between  her  books,  her  friends,  and  pursuing  a  hygienic 
regime.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  as  yet  she  had 
no  knowledge  whatsoever  of  the  existence  of  any  second 
self,  or  of  any  consciousness  beyond  her  own  waking  one. 
Everything  she  said  and  did  as  B  II,  and  as  Chris,  was 
kept  strictly  from  her.  Her  knowledge  was  limited  to  the 
fact  that  she  went  to  sleep  by  command  and  waked  up 
again.  She  was  therefore  in  complete  ignorance  of  her  sub- 
conscious mental  life,  and  of  the  fact  that  there  was  reason 
to  suspect  that  there  were  within  her  trains  of  thought 
entirely  out  of  harmony  with  her  waking  consciousness. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  both  B  II  and  Chris  used 
to  try  to  rub  their  closed  eyelids  with  the  hands,  though, 
as  far  as  possible,  I  prevented  both  from  doing  this,  often 
using  physical  force.  B  II  never  could  explain  why  she 
did  it ;  but  Chris,  speaking  for  herself,  always  said  up  and 
down  from  the  first  that  it  was  her  deliberate  purpose  to 
get  her  eyes  open,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  in- 
subordination, insisting  that  she  would  see,  and  that  she 
"had  a  right  to  see."  She  complained  rather  piteously 
that  it  was  not  fair  Miss  Beauchamp  should  be  allowed  to 
see,  while  she  was  forbidden. 


So  sometimes  when  B  II  rubbed  her  eyelids,  as  Chiis 
later  confessed,  it  was  not  B  II  herself  who  did  it  but 
Chris,  "inside,"  as  it  were,  who  took  B  II's  hands  and 
rubbed  her  eyes.  At  such  times  Chris  thought  that  if  her 
eyes  were  opened  (the  joint  eyes  of  B  II  and  hei-self),  she 
(Chi-is)  would  be  able  to  see,  and  thereby  would  awake  in 
the  place  of  B  II.  It  was  not  surprising,  then,  that  at  such 
times  B  II  did  not  know  why  she  rubbed  her  eyes,  for  it 
was  another  self,  Chris,  who  was  doing  it.  That  all  this 
is  true  there  can  be  no  doubt ;  especially  as  it  was  noted 
at  a  later  period  that  whenever  Chris  Avanted  "  to  come  " 
while  Miss  Beauchamp  was  in  hypnosis,  the  hands  used  to 
rub  the  closed  eyelids  (the  eyelids  of  B  II),  and,  unless 
forcibly  prevented,  the  eyes  would  open  and  Chris  would 
appear  upon  the  scene.  As  the  meaning  of  this  device  to 
get  the  eyes  open  early  became  manifest,  neither  B  II  nor 
Chris,  as  has  already  been  stated,  was  permitted  to  make 
use  of  it.  I  felt  it  to  be  unwise  that  either  of  these  selves, 
and  particularly  Chris,  should  be  allowed  to  form  inde- 
pendent groups  of  mental  experiences  and  thereby  chains 
of  memories,  thinking  that  if  such  should  take  place  either 
self  might  become  educated  into  an  independent  person- 
ality. Inasmuch  as  our  visual  perceptions  form  the  largest 
and  perhaps  the  most  important  part  of  our  sensory  ex- 
periences, it  seemed  probable  that  the  possession  of  the 
visual  apparatus  would  tend  to  enable  the  second  person- 
ality to  acquire  a  large  degree  of  independence.  Neither 
B  II  nor  any  of  the  hypnotic  states  proper  has  ever  been 
allowed  to  open  the  eyes  in  hypnosis,  to  the  present  day. 
As  to  Chris,  such  a  precaution  was  felt  to  be  particularly 
important,  for  as  long  as  her  eyes  were  kept  closed,  her 
independent  activity  would  be  limited  and  she  could  be  kept 
under  control.  It  was  also  sought  to  confine  lier  hypnotic 
experiences  within  the  naiTowest  limits  compatible  with 
therapeutic  ends.    All  attempts,  however,  to  limit  the  mental 


experiences  of  Chris  were  hopeless.  She  proved  herself 
made  of  different  stuff,  and,  as  it  transpired,  had  an  exist- 
ence which,  if  her  own  story  is  to  be  believed,  long  ante- 
dated her  first  appearance  in  my  presence. 

To  explain  still  further  this  device  for  getting  the  eyes 
open,  it  may  be  stated  here,  although  it  is  anticipating 
somewhat,  that,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Chris,  the 
mechanical  device  of  itself  alone  was  without  effect.  Be- 
sides rubbing  her  eyes  she  was  obliged  to  "  will  "  to  come. 
"  Willing,"  as  a  part  of  her  conscious  processes,  plays  a 
very  prominent  part  in  the  psychological  phenomena  mani- 
fested by  this  personality,  particularly  in  those  which  are 
the  effect  of  her  influence  upon  the  others. 

"  How  did  you  make  her  do  this  or  that  ?  "  I  frequently 

"  I  just '  willed,' "  was  the  reply. 

In  passing  I  may  also  call  attention  to  the  value  of  the 
information  which  Chris  as  a  subconscious  personality  was 
able  to  give  concerning  many  phenomena  which  otherwise 
would  have  been  inexplicable,  or,  apparently,  insignificant. 
Such  information,  of  course,  rests  largely,  as  in  the  in- 
stance of  willing,  upon  the  statement  of  Chris,  and  is  not 
open  to  objective  verification,  as  must  often  be  the  case 
when  we  have  to  do  with  subjective  phenomena.  But  I 
believe  that  the  statements  of  Miss  Beauchamp  and  Cliris, 
as  far  as  they  concern  facts  of  which  they  have  knowledge, 
—  such,  for  example,  as  their  own  acts  or  thoughts  and 
feelings,  —  are  as  reliable  as  any  statement  based  on  per- 
sonal experience  or  introspective  knowledge  can  be. 
Some  of  the  statements  of  this  sort  could  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent be  verified.  Over  and  over  again,  at  a  later  period,  I 
have  seen  B  II  while  convening,  lier  face  expressive  of 
sadness  and  weariness,  rub  her  eyelids  in  an  unaccountable 
way,  until  of  a  sudden,  Chris,  laughing  and  gay,  would 
burst  out  of  her  chrysalis  into  her  butterfly  existence.   The 


one  phenomenon  would  follow  the  other  so  regularly  that 
it  is  dull  scepticism  to  disbelieve  the  assertions  of  Chris 
that  it  was  she  who  rubbed  Miss  Beauchamp's  eyelids  and 
"  willed  "  to  come.  As  has  just  been  said,  B  II  did  not 
know  at  such  times  why  she  rubbed  her  eyes  ;  she  felt 
herself  impelled  to  do  it.  Her  actions,  then,  being  ac- 
complished by  another  consciousness,  were  further  ex- 
amples of  subconscious  automatic  movements. 

At  other  times  Chris  would  disclaim  all  responsibility 
for  the  act,  saying  that  it  was  B  II  herself  who  did  it, 
and  that  she,  Chris,  did  not  know  the  reason  for  it.  The 
explanation  was  found  in  the  fact  that  at  such  times  B 
II  complained  that  her  eyes  "  stung  "  and  "  burned,"  and 
she  felt  that  she  must  rub  them  to  relieve  the  sensation, 
which  was  intense.  This  sensation,  it  was  discovered,  was 
due  to  the  effect  of  "  willing  "  by  Chris.  Although  she 
did  not  make  use  of  B  II's  hands,  yet  at  such  times  she 
"  willed  "  the  eyelids  to  open.  This  sensory  phenomenon 
is  an  association  phenomenon,  or  what  is  known  as 
akinesia  algera,  —  the  association  of  pain  with  voluntary 
movements.  It  is  probably  similar  to  what  is  observed  in 
eye-strain,  when,  as  a  result  of  strong  muscular  effort  to 
use  the  eyes,  one  or  another  form  of  paresthesia  is  ex- 
perienced. At  such  times  B  II  was  simply  trying  to  re- 
lieve the  disagreeable  feelings  caused  by  Chris's  "  willing  " 
to  control  the  muscles  of  the  eyelids. 

I  dwell  upon  these  facts,  longer  than  would  seem  to 
be  called  for,  at  the  risk  of  tiring  the  reader,  for  two 
reasons :  first,  because,  as  will  presently  appear,  tliey  play 
an  important  part  in  the  development  of  the  case  and 
enable  us  to  undei-stand  how  Chris  finally  succeeded  in 
getting  her  liberty ;  and,  second,  because  from  one  point 
of  view  they  are  of  great  significance,  namely,  as  evidence 
of  the  coexistence  of  two  separate  and  distinct  conscious- 
nesses.    If  it  be  true,  while  Miss  Beauchamp  or  B  II  is 


conversing  on  one  subject,  some  other  consciousness  is 
using  the  hands  and  "  willing  "  something  entirely  outside 
the  field  of  consciousness  of  the  first,  and  unknown  to  the 
first,  there  must  be  two  distinct,  separate,  and  coexisting 
trains  of  thought. 

To  return  to  our  story ;  Miss  Beauchamp,  in  June,  had 
gotten  into  a  nervous  condition  again,  owing  to  various 
outside  matters  which  disturbed  her.  Without  going 
into  these  in  detail,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that,  among 
other  troubles,  she  brooded  over  the  fact  that  she  was 
not  allowed  to  go  back  to  college,  and  that  certain  emo- 
tions of  the  past  had  been  revived.  A  certain  episode 
which  had  recently  occurred  (as  was  afterwards  learned) 
had  brought  back  the  recollections  and  associations  of  a 
painful  event  which  had  once  given  her  a  profound 
shock.  This  and  other  things  threw  her  again  into  a 
nervous  condition,  accompanied  by  insomnia.  All  this 
was  hard  on  Miss  Beauchamp,  but  the  conditions  were 
propitious  for  Chris. 

One  day  toward  the  end  of  June  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
sitting  by  the  open  window  reading.  She  fell  into  what 
Chris  afterward  called  a  half  "  mooning  "  state.  She  would 
read  a  bit,  then  look  out  of  the  window  and  think ;  then 
turn  to  her  book  and  again  read.  Thus  she  would  alter- 
nately read  and  dream, —  day-dreaming,  it  was.  All  her 
life  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  falling  into  these  states  of 
abstraction  (for  such  they  were),  when  she  lived  in  the 
clouds.  Here  was  Chris's  opportunity.  The  physical  and 
mental  conditions  were  ripe.  Chris  was  not  one  to  let 
such  a  golden  chance  slip  by.  So  while  Miss  Beaucliani[) 
was  dreaming  in  her  chair,  Chris  took  both  her  hands,  — 
Miss  Beauchamp's  hands,  —  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  "willed"; 
then,  for  the  moment,  Miss  Beauchamp  disappeared  and 
"  Sally  "  came,  mistress  of  herself,  and,  for  the  first  time, 
able  to  see.     From  this  time  on,  we  shall  call  Chris  by  the 


name  of  Sally;  for  though  it  was  much  later  tliat  Chris 
took  the  name,  the  complete  independent  existence  of  this 
personality  dates  from  this  event. 

Sally  had  gotten  her  eyes  open  at  last,  and  with  the 
opening  of  her  eyes  she  may  be  said  to  have  been  truly 
born  into  this  world,  though  she  claimed  to  have  really 
existed  before.  Sally  was  delighted  with  her  success,  so 
she  must  celebrate  her  birthday  by  smoking  two  cigarettes.^ 
Her  belief  in  the  naughtiness  of  it  all,  and  a  consciousness 
of  the  displeasure  which  it  would  occasion  Miss  Beauchamp, 
added  to  her  enjoyment.  But  her  delight  did  not  last  long. 
She  became  frightened.  The  thought  came  to  her  that 
perhaps  Miss  Beauchamp  might  be  "dead,"  and  would 
never  come  back ;  perhaps  she  could  not  bring  her  back. 
What  would  she  do  then !  She  became  alarmed  at  the 
thought.  She  knew  that  she  did  not  know  how  to  wake 
up  Miss  Beauchamp,  and,  as  she  realized  her  inability, 
her  fright  increased  and  she  did  not  want  to  stay.  An 
idea  came  to  her.  She  remembered  that  sometimes  I  used 
to  employ  a  strong  Faradic  battery  to  wake  Miss  Beau- 
champ when  she  (Chris)  would  not  go  at  command.^  So 
Sally  took  the  lighted  cigarette,  burned  her  arm  sharply, 
and  Miss  Beauchamp  woke  up. 

.  The  following  letter  (A),  unfinished,  written  by  Sally  to 
me,  as  well  as  the  second  (B), written  to  "William  Jones," 
gives  a  better  glimpse  into  her  mind.  The  first  is  a  tri- 
umphant Hallelujah,  for  at  last  she  had  gotten  her  eyes 
open.  This  was  written  immediately  after  the  event.  The 
second  is  of  later  date,  probably  some  time  in  the  next  week. 


"  My  dear  Dr.  Prince,  —  Rejoice  with  me  and  be  exceed- 
ing glad,  for  I  am  on  the  top  of  the  heap  at  last !     Never  again 

'  Previously  given  her  by  me. 

2  This  probably  acted  by  awakeuing  the  lost  tactile  feelings  belonging  to 
B  I  and  which  Sally  did  not  possess  (Chap.  IX). 


shall  I  be  squeezed  ^  —  never  again  be  bored !  Ah,  how  good 
it  is  !  and  you  —  unkind  —  refused  it  to  me.  Hereafter  I  know 
you  not  —  you  shall  be  as  " 


[To  W.  J.]  ' '  To-morrow,  mio  caro  amico,  we  go  to  the 
shore  for  the  day.  Please  stop  at  P.  &  S.'s^  first  and  then 
meet  me  at  the  Union  Station  at  tea. 

"  As  always," 

Miss  Beauchamp  had  captured  these  letters  and  sent 
them  to  me.  If  one  compares  them  with  the  following 
extracts  from  her  own  letter,  in  which  they  were  enclosed, 
the  difference  in  personalities  is  strikingly  shown  : 

"  Dear  Dr.  Prince,  —  I  do  really  think  that,  like  those  poor 
people  of  old,  I  must  be  possessed  of  devils.  .  .  . 

All  this  is  to  explain  my  sending  you  the  enclosed  notes. 
.  .  .  To-day  my  sin  consisted  in  telling  but  half  the  truth,  as 
you  will  see  by  looking  at  the  notes,  one  of  which  [(A)]  is  very 
absurd,  and  wholly  without  meaning,  as  I  told  you.  The  other 
[(B)],  as  I  did  not  tell  you,  is  apparently  a  perfectly  natural 
note.  But  it  is  not  natural  or  like  me  at  all.  I  do  wish 
you  would  believe  me,  Dr.  Prince.  I  know  you  won't.  It  is 
not  because  the  note  is  wicked  that  I  disclaim  it.  .  .  .  You 
must  know  that,  from  what  I  have  told  you  of  my  life.  I  want 
you  to  believe  me,  because  I  am  frightened,  and  afraid  of  my- 
self if  such  things  are  liable  to  occur  at  any  time.  I  knoio  that 
these  two  last  attacks  are  different  from  any  I  have  ever  had. 
It  is  as  though  I  were  filled  with  the  spirit  of  mischief  incar- 
nate.  .  .  . 

"And  now,  hoping  most  sincerely  that  you  will  forgive  me, 
and  won't  be  very  cross  because  I  have  troubled  you  with  this 
appeal,  1  remain,  etc." 

1  This  was  a  term  invented  by  Sail}-  to  describe  a  peculiar  psycliical  state 
of  some  importance.  In  this  state  she  lost  tlie  power  to  inflnence  Miss  B.  or 
to  "come"  herself.  She  used  to  say  she  felt  "squeezed."  I  uever  could  get 
any  more  precise  explanation  of  her  mental  condition. 

*  A  confectioner. 



During  the  next  ten  days  or  so  Sally  used  to  come  and 
go,  more  or  less,  but  she  could  not  always  do  it  when  she 
wanted  to.  It  depended  largely  upon  Miss  Beauchamp's 
condition  of  health,  and  particularly  upon  a  condition  of 
fatigue  which  was  necessary.  The  better  Miss  Beau- 
champ^s^  health,  the  more  deeply  and  strongly  was  Sally 
imprisoned,  —  "  squeezed,"  to  use  her  expression. 

Things  soon  came  to  a  climax.  On  Thursday,  June  23, 
Miss  Beaucharap,  in  a  condition  of  some  alarm,  telephoned 
that  she  had  lost  ten  hours  after  leaving  my  office  the  pre- 
ceding afternoon.  When  she  came  to  heraelf  she  found  in 
her  hand  a  lighted  cigarette  which  had  burned  her  finger, 
and,  apparently,  waked  her  up.  Her  dress  and  clothing 
were  dusty,  as  if  she  had  returned  from  a  walk  in  the 
country.  She  was  tired  and  worn  out.  The  next  day, 
Friday,  she  reported  that  not  only  had  she  again  gone  into 
a  trance,  but  that  she  had  also  lost  some  money  in  an  unac- 
countable way.  On  the  following  morning  I  received  this 
note,  in  which  the  hand  of  Sally  was  immistakable  : 

"Dear  Dr.  Prince,  — I  wish  you  would  not  be  so  awfully 
wrathy  and  superior  —  it  spoils  half  my  fun  —  and  Jones's  an- 
ger, if  it  were  not  too  amusing,  would  quite  spoil  the  other  half. 
It  is  unkind  of  you  to  desert  me,  and  to  refuse  to  uphold  the 
new  order  of  things.  You  reduce  me  to  one  small  victim,  who 
is  both  tiresome  and  absurd.  Please  be  amiabUy  and  you  shall 
have  half  the  P.  &  S.  —  which  is  an  abbreviation  for  something 
very  nice  indeed.  Also  I  will  tell  you  many  things  good  for 
you  to  know  and  useful,  but  not  here,  for  you  say  '  dam  *  (I 
have  heard  you,  my  child)  both  to  notes  and  telephone.  So  I 
make  this  most  brief,  that  you  may  favorably  hear  my  petition. 
Miss  Beauchamp  does  not  go  to  Winchester  to-night  *  —  she  is 
much  more  useful  here  and  infinitely  more  entertaining..  I  shall 
take  her  walking  again  presently.  It  is  so  good  for  her,  don't 
you  think  so?    And  she  goes  very  fast  for  me. 

"  Please  be  nice,  and  believe  me, 

"Your  obdt.  seiTt.," 
*  She  had  an  engagement  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  friend  in  Winchester. 


Hastening  to  visit  her,  I  found  Miss  Beauchamp  in  her 
room  in  a  wretched  condition  of  extreme  fatigue,  going 
easily  and  spontaneously  from  time  to  time  into  a  trance. 
She  could  not  remember  anything  about  her  whereabouts 
since  her  visit  to  my  office  the  preceding  afternoon,  or 
where  she  had  passed  the  night,  although  from  the  testi- 
mony of  the  servant  she  had  been  at  home.  Presently 
going  into  one  of  the  spontaneous  trances  she  became 
Sally,  who  now  gave  a  full  explanation  of  her  doings. 
Sally  had  been  at  home,  but  had  gone  the  day  before  to 
the  confectioner's  (P.  &  S.'s)  and  bought  a  box  of  candy, 
spending  about  two  dollars  (the  empty  box  was  on  the 
floor)  ;  then  she  had  had  a  royal  lunch  out  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  exchequer,  but  had  had  the  mishap  to  lose  quite  a 
sum  of  money  by  its  being  blown  away  while  she  was  on 
an  electric  street-car. 

After  administering  a  judicious  lecture  to  Sally,  with 
suggestions,  Miss  Beauchamp  was  awakened,  apparently  in 
good  condition,  so  much  so  that  she  refused  to  go  to  the 
hospital ;  but  in  the  evening  a  messenger  brought  a  note  in 
which  was  hastily  scrawled  the  following : 

"  Please  let  me  go  to  the  hospital,  and  at  once.  I  am  awfully 

On  the  way  to  the  hospital  she  kept  relapsing  into  trance 
states,  the  exact  character  of  which  it  was  not  easy  to  de- 
termine. Her  stay  in  the  hospital,  where  she  came  under 
the  care  of  Dr.  Y.,  lasted  about  ten  days.  There  an  amus- 
ing thing  happened.  It  was  reported  to  me  that  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  recovering  rapidly  and  was  free  from  in- 
somnia. Feeling  pleased  with  the  rapid  improvement  un- 
der ray  brother  practitioner's  charge,  I  hastened  to  make  her 
a  visit.  As  I  walked  into  the  room  I  was  astonished  to  see 
not  Miss  Beauchamp,  but  Sally,  stuttering  and  merry  as  a 
grig,  and  having  a  delightful  time  impersonating  her  other 


self.  It  came  to  light  that  Sally  had  conceived  the  idea 
that  as  she  herself  was  free  from  ailments,  if  she  could  im- 
personate Miss  Beauchamp  she  would  be  considered  well, 
and  so  escape  from  the  hospital  and  go  to  Europe,  as  had 
been  previously  planned.  So,  when  the  night  nurse  looked 
in  upon  her,  Sally  was  always  found  "  asleep " ;  the  day 
nurse  had  an  equally  good  report  to  make,  and  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  soon,  in  spite  of  my  warnings,  discharged 
"  well."  A  few  days  after  this  I  caught  Sally  just  in  time, 
on  the  verge  of  her  departure  for  Europe,  and  changed  her, 
against  her  will,^  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  was  astounded 

1  The  scene  which  took  place  on  this  occasion  illustrates  very  well  Sally's 
attitnde  towards  the  world  in  general  and  towards  her  superior  self.  Though 
I  recognized  her  at  once,  she  pretended  to  be  Miss  Beauchamp,  copying  her 
air,  her  mode  of  speech,  and  mood.  But  finally  when  appealed  to  for  her 
confidence  she  confessed  all,  saying  that  she  did  not  want  to  be  in  her  normal 
state ;  she  enjoyed  life  much  more  as  she  was ;  she  wanted  to  go  to  Europe 
and  have  a  good  time ;  and  she  positively  refused  to  let  Miss  Beauchamp  be 
awakened.  Arguments,  expostulations,  even  threats  were  of  no  avail.  She 
did  not  want  to  be  the  otheiyone,  of  whom  she  spoke  in  contempt.  She  simply 
defied  me  to  wake  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  in  fact  every  attempt  ou  my  part 
was  unsuccessful.  Finally  wo  compromised  :  she  agreed  to  allow  Miss  Beau- 
champ to  be  awakened,  and  I,  on  my  part,  agreed  (may  the  ruse  be  pardoned  !) 
that  Sally  should  come  again  wlien  Miss  Beauchamp  was  well.  She  then  ex- 
plained that  verbal  suggestion  was  not  sufficient :  I  must  imitate  the  cigarette 
burning  to  awaken  her.  Taking  the  hint,  a  strong  electric  battery  was  em- 
ployed to  do  the  work,  and  Miss  Beauchamp  awoke,  frightened  at  finding 
herself  where  she  was. 

The  following  letter,  written  while  in  the  hospital,  is  interesting  psycho- 
logically; it  sliows  that  Sally  could,  at  times  at  least,  realize  responsibilities 
and  had  a  certain  fulness  of  cliaracter.  I  had  threatened  Sally  that  if  she 
did  not  behave,  did  not  cease  writing  to  Jones,  etc.,  etc.,  I  should  report  her 
conduct  to  Mrs.  X.    This  brought  from  Sally  the  following  letter  : 

"  Dear  Dr.  Prince,  —  You  simply  mnst  not  spring  Mrs.  X.  on  me  now, 
for  I  too  care  for  her  more  than  for  all  else.  Indeed  you  must  not.  I  will 
promise  you  anything,  and  I  have  kept  my  promises.  I  would  take  the  most 
solemn  oath  that  that  is  true.  I  have  never  broken  but  one,  and  although 
that  one  seems  to  affect  you  more  than  any  other  I  did  it  only  because  you 
first  broke  yours,  and  because  I  wanted  to  see  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  do 
certain  things.  I  can  do  them,  but  alas,  I  cannot  undo  them.  I  think  you 
can.  I  am  sure  you  can  if  I  do  not  oppose  you.  Don't  misunderstand  me 
and  think  that  I  am  sorry  or  ashameil :  I  am  neither,  but  always  I  have 
worsiiipped  Mrs.  X.,  and  it  is  for  her.  Don't  speak  to  her  until  you  have 
straightened  this  out.    These  people  can  never  do  it.    They  are  content  if  I 


to  find  herself  in  my  office,  her  last  recollection  being  her 
entrance  into  the  hospital  ten  days  previously. 

It  was  thus  by  a  lucky  chance  that  Sally  did  not  go  to 
Europe  instead  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  The  latter  left  Boston 
the  next  day  for  Europe,  and  aside  from  a  few  exceptional 
hours  remained  herself  during  the  rest  of  the  summer. 

am  quiet  and  sleep,  and  yon  know  I  am  strong-willed  enough  even  for  that  — 
if  it  be  necessary.  Do  consider  this  seriously.  I  can  be  serious,  whether  you 
believe  it  or  not." 


SALLY   "on  top  OF  THE   HEAP*' 

IN  the  fall  Miss  Beauchamp  returned  from  Europe. 
She  was  much  improved  in  health,  being  practically 
free  from  the  distressing  symptoms  which  for  several  years 
had  made  life  almost  unendurable.  As  far  as  physical 
well-being  was  concerned,  life  had  become  fairly  enjoy- 
able. If  she  had  been  more  stable,  or  had  not  been  ex- 
posed to  constantly  repeated,  even  if  mild,  nervous  shocks, 
to  which  her  impressionable  temperament  contributed, 
there  would  have  been  little  of  which  to  complain.  But 
this  instability,  and  her  unfortunate  emotional  make-up, 
together  with  one  particular  disturbing  factor  of  her  en- 
vironment, were  destined  to  bring  about  new  mental 
troubles,  which,  though  highly  interesting  and  at  times 
dramatic  from  a  psychological  point  of  view,  were  very 
hard  for  her  to  bear.  In  short,  her  comparative  health 
soon  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

In  the  latter  part  of  September  Miss  Beauchamp  reported 
that  she  had  had  a  number  of  attacks  of  somnambulism  of 
a  very  curious  sort.  During  the  summer  abroad  she  had 
had  several  such  attacks,  each  of  several  hours'  duration. 
She  would  go  into  them  spontaneously;  usually,  but  not 
necessarily,  as  a  consequence  of  fatigue.  If  this  were  all 
there  would  have  been  nothing  remarkable  about  them,  as  it 
will  be  remembered  that  she  had  been  subject  to  attacks  of 
somnambulism  during  much  of  her  life,  and  had  had  several 
attacks  in  June.  To  her,  the'  curious  part  of  it  now  was 
that  in  these  attacks  she  played  tricks,  not  on  other  people 
but  with  the  evident  desire  of  tormenting  herself.     Miss 

SALLY   "ON   TOP  OF  THE  HEAP"  103 

Beauchamp  was  very  much  discouraged  by  this  new  phase 
of  her  infirmity,  as  the  results  were  extremely  annoying 
and  often  embarrassing.  She  felt  mortified,  too,  that  she 
should  indulge  in  such  tomfooleries,  even  though  it  was 
done  in  a  trance.  The  following  extract  from  my  note- 
book gives  an  idea  of  the  general  condition  of  affairs : 

October  28,  1898.  "  Miss  Beauchamp  to-day  is  very  much 
distressed  over  her  doings  in  these  trances.  In  such  states  the 
desire  shown  to  torment  herself  is  most  absurd.  She  writes  to 
herself  letters  which  she  finds  on  awaking  in  the  morning.  In 
these  communications  she  indulges  in  personal  abuse  of  herself, 
criticising  her  own  actions,  and  calling  herself  names.  The 
information  which  she  received  in  this  way,  together  with  that 
contained  in  letters  written  to  W —  J —  are  her  principal  sources 
of  knowledge  of  what  she  does  in  the  trance  state,  and  even  of 

the  fact  of  having  gone  into  one.     J is  not  aware  that  the 

letters  to  him  are  written  in  a  trance,  and  she  herself  learns  of 
her  own  letters  only  through  him.  In  stj'le,  these  trance  letters 
are  not  at  all  like  those  of  her  normal  self.  In  her  last  trance 
she  tore  up  four  or  five  pages  of  mathematical  work  which  had 
been  accomplished  after  many  hours  of  labor  as  a  part  of  her 
college  exercises.^  This  is  only  a  sample  of  what  she  does.  In 
one  attack  she  took  a  long  walk  into  the  country,  and  in  another 
made  a  call  on  Mrs.  X.  [Mrs.  X.  later  reported  that  she  no- 
ticed nothing  unusual  about  Miss  Beauchamp  during  this  call, 
except  that  she  stuttered.]  Miss  Beauchamp  herself  learned  of 
the  visit  and  of  her  behavior  at  the  time  only  through  one  of  the 
letters  written  to  herself." 

Besides  being  the  victim  of  trances,  Miss  Beauchamp 
complained  that  she  was  "tormented"  by  some  other  very 
curious  phenomena  in  the  waking  state,  similar  to  the 
impulsive  lying  previously  noted. 

[From  notebook.]  "  She  often  feels  an  irresistible  impulse, 
as  if  possessed  by  something  inside  of  her,  to  do  and  say  things 
which  she  has  no  desire  to  do  and  say.     For  instance,  a  day  or 

^  She  had  bcgnu  to  take  a  coarse  in  a  college  in  Boston. 


two  ago,  she  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in  coming  to  see  me 
because  she  felt  something  trying  to  prevent  her ;  though  she 
succeeded  in  coming  to  the  house,  yet  after  awaiting  my  arrival 
some  little  time  she  found  it  impossible  to  wait  longer;  some- 
thing inside  of  her  made  her  nervous  and  forced  her  to  go  away 
in  spite  of  herself.  There  is  something,  she  feels,  that  is  trying 
to  prevent  her  seeing  me.  To-day,  while  in  the  waiting-room, 
she  felt  an  impulse,  devoid  of  desire  but  difficult  to  resist,  to 
lock  me  in  my  office.  [To  conceive  of  Miss  B.'s  committing  a 
breach  of  propriety  like  this  is  to  imagine  the  sister  superior  of 
a  convent  dancing  a  can-can.]  It  also  troubles  her  that  she 
makes  remarks  of  an  impertinent  character  to  Miss  K." 

It  is  difficult  to  give  accurately  Miss  Beauchamp's  keen 
analysis  and  detailed  description  of  these  uncontrollable 
impulses.  That  she  was  disturbed  by  such  mental  aber- 
rations goes  without  saying.  Not  to  know  what  one  will 
do  next,  what  false  position  one  will  awake  to  find  oneself 
placed  in,  or  what  responsibility  unconsciously  assumed, 
would  be  trying  to  the  most  reckless  character ;  and  if  we 
imagine  an  over-conscientious  nature,  with  a  strong  sense 
of  responsibility,  finding  herself  compelled  to  do  and  say 
what  is  repellant  to  her  instincts,  we  can  undei"stand 
the  sense  of  hopeless  tangle  into  which  she  seemed  to  be 

Though  Miss  Beauchamp,  who,  it  will  be  remembered, 
was  still  ignorant  of  Sally  as  a  personality,  naturally  sought 
an  explanation  of  these  phenomena,  it  did  not  seem  wise 
that  she  should  be  enlightened.  Aside  from  the  possible 
ill  effect  of  such  knowledge  upon  her  nerVous  system,  I 
was  deterred  also  by  the  possibility  that  the  accuracy  of 
her  observations  of  herself  might  be  disadvantageously 
affected  if  she  should  have  any  psychological  theories  in 
mind ;  and  as  long  as  ignorance  could  do  no  harm  it  was 
desirable  that  her  knowledge  should  not  extend  beyond  the 
observations  of  her  own  actual  experiences. 


My  first  suspicion,  amounting,  of  course,  almost  to  a 
moral  certainty,  was  that  it  was  Sally  who  was  at  the 
bottom  of  all  this  mischief.  It  was  most  probable  that 
when  Miss  Beauchamp  went  into  a  trance  she  changed  to 
Sally,  who,  being  now  independent,  played  these  pranks 
and  followed  her  own  bent.  It  must  have  been  Sally  also, 
who,  as  a  hidden  self,  made  her,  when  awake,  do  things 
against  her  will.  Miss  Beauchamp  had  laid  great  stress 
on  the  difficulty  she  had  had  in  coming  to  see  me,  and  in 
staying  after  her  arrival,  having  been  hindered  by  this 
something  inside  of  her.  I  knew  that  Sally  objected  to 
Miss  Beauchamp's  being  helped;  indeed  she  had  every 
reason  for  keeping  out  of  my  way.  It  was  most  probable, 
therefore,  that  it  was  Sally,  as  a  second  consciousness, 
who  caused  the  irresistible  impulses  in  Miss  B.  But  of 
course  this  theory  remained  to  be  proved.  And,  if  true, 
there  still  remained  the  psychological  problem.  What  kind 
of  personality  is  Sally  ?  I  mean  what  relation  did  she  bear 
to  the  normal  consciousness  ?  One  or  two  hypotheses  had 
already  forced  themselves  forward,  —  but  all  this  will  be 
discussed  later  in  its  appropriate  place. 

The  next  day  any  doubt  ^  about  the  correctness  of  my 
surmise  was  set  at  rest  by  the  receipt  of  the  following 
letter : 

"  My  dear  Dr.  Prince,  — Yon  are  most  absurd  and  idiotic 
to  waste  yonr  time  and  sympathy  on  such  a  perfect  chnmp  as  onr 
friend  is.  I  do  not  like  it  at  all,  and  I  won't  have  you  doing  it. 
And  moreover  I  won't  have  you  trying  hypnotism  again  on  any 
account.  Do  you  understand  ?  We  do  not  need  it,  and  we  won't 
have  it,  and  we  are  not  interesting  psychology  [sic].  You  make 
me  so  angry  talking  a  lot  of  absurd  nonsense  that  you  know 
is  n't  one  bit  true.  Goose !  Why  won't  you  be  reasonable  ? 
Our  friend  is  going  to  weep  salt  tears  when  she  knows  I  have 

1  Assuming,  of  course,  the  following  letter  authentic,  about  which  subse- 
quent events  allow  no  room  for  doubt. 


written  you.  Won't  it  be  jolly?  and  serve  her  quite  right  too, 
for  she  thinks  altogether  too  much  of  '  dear  Dr.  Prince '  and 
too  little  of  my  long-suffering  Jones.  She  needs  discipline  and 
my  tender  care.  I  know  her  a  great  deal  better  than  you  To, 
and  I  know  she  is  really  awfully  wicked.  Do  believe  what  I 
tell  you.  ...  I  want  you  to  very  much  —  and  you  know  you 
are  awfully  busy  with  people  now.  Please  be  good  and  let  me 
alone.  Don't  heed  her  foolish  appeals  —  she  is  a  perfect  baby. 
Even  Jones  says,  and  he  is  clever  too,  that  she  has  absolutely 
no  comprehension  of  things.  He  gets  so  cross.  You  may  have 
those  notes,  if  you  want  them.  They  are  very  nice  ones  too. 
Much  better  than  hers." 

Even  if  the  contents  of  this  letter  had  not  shown  the 
mind  of  a  different  personality,  the  tone  was  so  unlike 
Miss  Beauchamp's  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
attribute  it  to  her.  The  handwriting  alone  was  hers. 
Some  of  the  expressions  refer  to  remarks  I  had  made  to 
Miss  Beauchamp,  such  as  that  her  case  was  very  interest- 
ing "psychology"  [psychologically]  (Sally  meant  to  use 
the  adjective,  but  always  found  it  too  much  either  to  pro- 
nounce or  write),  and  my  request  for  the  notes  which  had 
been  written  to  herself  in  trances.  The  possession  of  this 
knowledge  by  the  writer  showed  that  she  was  familiar  with 
what  had  occurred  between  Miss  Beauchamp  and  myself 
during  the  interview  of  the  preceding  day,  and  therefore 
had  no  amnesia  for  this  time ;  and  if  the  writer  was  a  sub- 
conscious personality  it  looked  very  much  as  if  she  must 
have  been  consciously  awake  at  the  time  and  heard  the 
conversation.  A  comparison  of  the  tone  of  this  note  with 
that  of  the  following  two  letters,  written  at  this  same  time, 
is  interesting.  These  latter,  written  by  Miss  Beauchamp 
herself,  give  an  idea  of  her  point  of  view  and  general  atti- 
tude of  mind. 

"  Dear  Dr.  Prince,  —  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  you  and  talk 
with  you  a  little  —  if  you  are  not  utterly  exasperated  with  me. 

SALLY   "ON   TOP  OF  THE   HEAP"  107 

And  I  do  want  you,  please,  please,  to  hypnotize  me  again. 
You  know  it  is  the  only  thing  that  has  ever  helped  me,  and  I 
,l,am  sure  it  is  the  only  way,  save  by  fasting  and  vigil  —  which 
,you  know  I  am  not  up  to  —  to  cast  out  this  demon  of  mischief, 
which  rules  me  as  it  will.  The  last  two  attacks  have  not  come 
because  of  sleeplessness,  or  pain,  or  because  of  any  of  those 
reasons  you  suggested  for  my  consolation,  —  and  really,  Dr. 
Prince,  I  cannot  believe  you,  much  as  I  should  like  to,  when 
you  say  that  it  is  a  common  thing  for  people  to  be  afflicted  in 
this  way.  You  have  been  wonderfully  good  about  it  all,  but  I 
realize  perfectly  what  you  must  think,  knowing  me  as  well  as 
you  do.  And  I  know  that  you  do  not  believe  that  the  rest  of 
the  world  is  just  as  bad.  If  you  are  to  be  at  the  office  again 
soon,  will  you  send  me  a  note?  I  was  so  sorry  not  to  see  you 
yesterday,  —  and  I  am  afraid  that  you  won't  understand  if  I 
say  that  much  as  I  wanted  to  see  you  I  could  not  stay  [i.  e. ,  in 
my  office].  Has  Dr.  Y.  told  you  that  I  went  to  him  while  you 
were  away  because  I  was  in  such  terror  of  another  attack  ?  " 

"  Dear  Dr.  Prince,  —  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  troubling 
you  again  so  soon.  I  would  not  except  that  I  need  advice  so 
very  much,  and  no  one  else  understands.  It  is  all  that  horrible, 
incomprehensible  f  reakishness,  —  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
it,  —  which  seems  to  take  possession  of  me  at  its  own  sweet 
will.  You  know  it  has  troubled  me  more  or  less  all  this  autumn, 
and  because  of  it  I  have  tried  to  keep  away  from  people  just  as 
much  as  possible,  and  have  especially  avoided  Mrs.  X.,  for 
I  feared  greatly  that  seeing  her  might  bring  on  one  of  those 
attacks  when  I  seem  to  be  possessed  of  forty  devils.  Please 
don't  be  amused.  I  am  in  despair  when  1  think  of  it  all,  for 
yesterday,  while  I  was  still  possessed,  I  went  to  see  her,  and 
although  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  I  did  nothing  worse  than 
to  stutter,^  yet  I  cannot  be  sure.  I  do  know  or  believe  that 
I  was  very  much  frightened  on  seeing  Mr.  X.  appear,  and  that 
the  only  thing  I  said  was  to  beg  him  not  to  tell  Dr.  Prince  that  I 
stuttered.  Is  n't  it  too  dreadful !  and  what  can  I  do?  Shall  I 
try  to  explain  to  Mrs.  X.,  or  will  that  only  make  matters  worse? 
I  am  a  sure-enough  prodigal  —  there  is  no  doubt  of  that  — 

1  See  notebook  record,  October  28. 


but  I  think  it  is  rather  hard  lines  to  lose  one's  head  so  literally 
as  I  do.  You  have  been  awfully  good  about  it  all,  but  I  beg 
you  won't  desert  me  yet.  No  one  would  ever  believe  in  such 
an  impossible  affliction,  I  am  sure.  It  is  such  an  unheard-of 
thing.  I  can  hardly  believe  myself  that  it  is  true,  —  my  doing  all 
those  things  which  ordinarily  I  have  the  greatest  coiitempt  for. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  case  for  fasting  and  vigil.  Sometimes  it  seems 
as  if  it  must  be.  If  you  will  send  me  just  a  word  saying  whether 
it  would  be  better  to  try  to  explain  to  Mrs.  X.,  I  will  be  most 
grateful  to  you." 

Sally  was  evidently  afraid  of  "  catching  a  wigging "  if 
she  were  told  on,  hence  her  request  to  Mr.  X.  not  to  men- 
tion that  she  stuttered,  by  which  her  personality  would  be 
known.  Miss  B.  learned  this  fact  from  one  of  her  letters 
to  herself. 

During  the  next  few  days  (the  last  of  October  and  the 
early  part  of  November)  several  opportunities  occurred  to 
confirm  by  personal  observation  the  character  of  the  trances 
and  the  nature  of  the  "irresistible  impulses."  At  each 
interview  I  was  treated  to  an  exhibition  of  rebelliousness 
on  the  part  of  Sally,  who  would  appear  spontaneously  and 
unbidden.  I  also  had  an  opportunity  to  witness  several 
scenes  in  which  Miss  Beauchamp  was  "possessed  by  some- 
thing inside  of  her,"  thus  confirming  her  statement  by 
actual  observation.  These  phenomena  will  presently  be 
described.  Before  long,  sufficient  were  manifested  in  my 
presence  to  support  all  that  Miss  Beauchamp  had  said. 
Sally  plainly  had  broken  loose  again. 

One  of  the  most  embaiTassing  things  in  Sally's  conduct 
was  her  making  engagements  with  people,  and  with  one 
person  in  particular  who  may  easily  be  guessed.  Aside 
from  the  effect  which  these  engagements  had  of  putting 
Miss  Beauchamp  into  trances,  there  was  no  particular  harm 
in  Sally's  youthful  loyalty,  or  there  would  have  been  no 
harm  if  Miss  Beauchamp  herself  had  not  felt  so  strongly 
about  discontinuing  the  old  relations.    It  was  many  months 

SALLY   "ON  TOP  OF  THE   HEAP"  109 

before  the  secret  of  the  past  and  the  psychological  reason 
for  the  anxiety  of  Miss  Beauchamp  were  revealed.  Long 
afterward,  when  the  history  of  a  psychological  catastrophe 
was  obtained,  all  became  clear.  Thus  it  was  that,  mor- 
bidly exaggerating  in  her  own  mind  the  seriousness  of  it 
all,  Miss  Beauchamp  had  gone  so  far  as  to  promise  to 
break  with  the  past.  Now  she  found  herself,  in  spite  of 
her  will,  faithless  to  her  solemn  promise.  The  breaking 
of  her  promise  was  the  basis  of  her  unhappiness  and 

The  way  it  worked  practically  was  this:  Sally  would 
make  an  engagement  for  a  definite  hour.  This  to  all 
appearance  would  act  as  a  post-hypnotic  suggestion. 
When  the  hour  arrived  —  just  as  a  hypnotic  subject 
carries  out  a  suggestion  previously  given  in  hj'pnosis,  so 
Miss  Beauchamp,  no  matter  what  her  own  engagements 
were,  where  she  was,  or  what  she  was  doing,  would 
change  to  Sally,  and  off  Sally  would  go  to  carry  out  the 
pre-arranged  programme.  How  I  did  bless  Jones,  and  how 
much  trouble  he  did  cause !  I  dare  say  he  was  innocently 
unconscious  of  it  all,  nevertheless  the  trouble  was  just  as 
great  and  the  consequences  as  disastrous  as  if  all  had  been 
done  with  dire  intent. 

It  was  found  necessary  to  lecture  Sally  severely  on  her 
conduct,  although  it  soon  became  evident  that  scolding 
had  very  little  permanent  effect.  Sally  was  too  childlike 
and  volatile  in  character  to  be  influenced  in  this  way  for 
long.  Nor  did  pleading  have  more  than  a  temporary 
effect.  She  would  respond  to  be  sure  by  becoming  re- 
pentant and  would  then  promise  anything,  but  she  simply 
could  not  keep  her  promises.  The  only  other  practical 
methods  to  influence  her  were  b)-  suggestions  to  B  II, 
which  Sally  found  it  difficult  to  counteract,  and  by  hyp- 
notizing Sally  herself.  The  latter  was  a  disagreeable 
process,  as  it  had  to  be  done  forcibly  against  her  will,  she 


all  the  time  kicking  and  struggling,  both  mentally  and 
physically.  Consequently  it  was  never  resorted  to  except 
in  emergencies. 

My  time  was  largely  occupied  in  thwarting  Sally's 
plans,  and  for  this  her  wrath  would  be  called  down  upon 
my  head.  It  is  fair  to  say,  however,  that  her  anger  did 
not  last  long.  She  could  be  easily  turned  to  merry  amia- 
bility by  a  pleasant  word.  You  had  only  to  distract  her 
attention  from  a  grievance,  to  suggest  a  new  pleasure,  and 
the  look  of  anger  was  gone  and  that  of  friendly  merriment 
beamed  upon  you.  I  was  always  sorry  to  have  to  play  the 
stern  moralist.  Those  savage  letters  which  she  sometimes 
wrote  in  no  way  did  her  amiability  justice  or  gave  an  idea 
of  her  character,  beyond  that  of  her  entire  lack  of  any  con- 
ception of  responsibility  and  of  worldly  knowledge.  Ex- 
cepting in  these  moods,  her  frolicsomeness,  gayety,  and 
love  of  fun  were  irresistible. 

An  apparently  thoughtless  word  at  this  time  was  the 
cause  of  a  foolish  annoyance.  Sally  got  it  into  her  child- 
ish head  that  she  was  seriously  invited  to  go  to  Europe. 
The  plan  was  preposterous,  and  probably  arose  from  some 
jocose  suggestion  on  the  part  of  her  old-time  friend  Jones. 
Nevertheless  Sally  took  it  seriously,  as  will  appear  from 
her  letters.  Miss  Beauchamp,  hearing  of  it,  also  took  it 
seriously,  and  was  in  a  state  of  terror,  not  knowing  what 
Sally  might  do.  Sally  seemed  to  her  mind  capable  of  any- 
thing. Two  letters  found  by  Miss  Beauchamp  on  coming 
out  of  a  trance,  and  written  while  in  that  state,  referred 
to  this  European  trip  in  a  way  that  gave  no  doubt  about 
Sally's  view.  They  were  sent  to  me  by  Miss  Beauchamp, 
enclosed  in  the  following  letter: 

"  I  enclose  two  of  the  notes  you  wished  to  see.  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  ashamed  I  am  that  I  could  liave  written  such  things, 
whether  consciously  or  unconsciously.  Forgive  me  for  muti- 
lating them.     I  really  had  to,  a  little.     The  third,  from  Jones, 

SALLY   "ON  TOP  OF   THE  HEAP"  111 

it  is  impossible  to  send  you  because  it  does  not  seem  quite  fair 
to  him.  Are  you  cross  with  me  for  making  that  arrangement 
this  morning  without  consulting  you  ?  I  am  so  sorry  if  you  are, 
but  it  can  be  easily  undone.  It  was  only  my  extreme  terror 
that  suggested  it.  It  seemed  as  if  I  must  keep  in  touch  with 
some  one,  and  I  wanted  that  some  one  to  be  you.  But  it  was 
very  thoughtless  and  foolish  of  me,  and  I  am  truly  sorry. 

"Thanking  you  so  much  for  all  your  kindness  and  patience, 
I  remain," 

The  first  of  the  enclosed  notes  was  from  Sally  to  me  and 
ran  as  follows : 

"  I  hate  you,  hate  you,  hate  you,  for  an  utter  barbarian  — 
and  we  are  never  coming  to  you  again.  She  shall  not  be  hyp- 
notized —  do  you  understand  ?  Jones  is  going  to  take  us  away 
—  very,  very  far  away,  where  you  cannot  possibly  come,  and 
we  are  going  to  stay  with  him  and  love  him  for  always.  And  you 
may  walk  on  the  hip.  You  shall  not  make  me  any  more  trouble, 
and  you  shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me  squeezed  ^ 
again.  She  cannot  do  it  now,  for  she  is  awfully  wicked  herself, 
although  she  does  n't  tell  lies  as  you  do.    This  from," 

"  Please  be  good,  and  write  her  that  you  are  so  busy  she  must 
not  come  at  present.     Please^  please  do." 

[Sally  to  Jones.]  "  Won't  you  please  come  and  take  me  away 
right  at  once?  Some  one  —  I  cannot  tell  you  who  —  is  going 
to  hypnotize  me  and  make  me  so  awfully  good  that  I  won't  ever 
be  allowed  to  see  j'ou  again.  And  I  want  you  not  to  let  it  be 
done.  Please  take  me  aioay.  I  do  truly  want  to  go,  and  I  'm 
not  making  a  fool  of  you  this  time.  I  'm  going  to  be  awfully 
reasonable,  and  I  won't  forget  any  of  the  notes  I  write  or  the 
things  I  say,  and  I  will  love  you  a  great  deal,  —  if  only  you 
please  won't  be  so  very  much  in  earnest.     I  don't  like  it,  you 

know.     Come  to about  five-thirty  to-morrow,  and  we  will 

do  our  planning  all  over  again.  It  will  be  such  fun,  won't  it? 
and  we  will  leave  all  this  dreary  unhappy  life  behind  us,  and 
never  be  sorry  any  more.     But  you  must  not  let  me  be  hypno- 

*  See  footnote,  p.  97. 


tized  again  —  that  is  true  really  —  it  spoils  everything.  Don't 
ask  me  any  more  about  it,  for  there  is  a  very  special  reason  why 
I  cannot  tell  you.  Only  we  must  stop  it.  Isn't  this  a  very  nice 
note?    Until  to-morrow,  then," 

The  childlike  character  of  these  last  two  letters  is  too 
obvious  not  to  be  seen.  One  might  imagine  them  written 
by  a  child  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years.  In  interpreting 
Sally's  actions  this  child  character  must  always  be  kept  in 
mind.  But  her  individuality  was  complicated  by  the  fact 
that  though  a  child  in  mental  development,  she  had  had 
the  benefit  of  the  adult  experiences  of  Miss  Beauchamp, 
and  therefore  had  more  knowledge  and  culture  than  a 
child.  Yet  she  looked  at  everything  from  a  child's  point  of 
view.  Her  general  attitude  of  mind  and  her  actions  were 
those  of  a  very  young  girl,  as  were  some  of  her  ideas  of  fun, 
and  particularly  her  love  of  mischief.  One  of  the  principal 
difficulties  in  managing  her  was  the  impossibility  of  making 
her  see  her  own  conduct  from  an  adult  point  of  view. 

There  are  two  or  three  expressions  in  these  letters 
which  are  very  suggestive.  In  the  second  Sally  says, 
"  I  'm  not  making  a  fool  of  you  this  time.  I  'm  going  to 
be  awfully  reasonable,  and  I  won't  forget  any  of  the  notes 
I  write  or  the  things  I  say."  Reading  between  the  lines, 
it  is  easy  to  understand  to  what  this  refers.  It  was  Sally 
who  had  written  the  letters,  made  the  engagements,  etc. 
Later,  the  personality  changing  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  not 
only  the  attitude  and  manner  changed  from  friendliness  to 
great  reserve,  but  Miss  Beauchamp  denied  everything  she 
had  said  and  done,  and  even  the  authenticity  of  the  letters. 
It  must  indeed  have  seemed  that  she  was  making  a  fool  of 
her  correspondent.  But  Sally,  who  of  course  knew  the 
ins  and  outs  of  it  all,  protests  that  "  this  time  "  she  is  not 
going  to  make  a  fool  of  him,  because  she  hopes  that  if  she 
can  prevent  herself  and  Miss  B.  from  being  hypnotized  she 
(Sally)  can  stay  always. 

SALLY   "ON  TOP  OF   THE  HEAP"  113 

1  have  often  been  asked  how  Miss  Beauchamp  managed 
to  get  on  while  she  led  such  a  double  life.  In  one  sense 
she  did  not  get  on,  except  at  the  expense  of  enduring  every 
sort  of  annoyance  and  disappointment.  The  following 
incident  illustrates  one  kind  of  annoyance,  for  which,  how- 
ever, Sally  was  not  directly  responsible. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Miss  Beauchamp  was  to  tele- 
phone every  morning  in  regard  to  her  condition.  On 
Christmas  morning  I  was  called  to  the  telephone,  and  at 
once  recognized  the  voice  of  one  member  of  the  family  by 
the  stuttering,  cheerfulness,  and  general  tone.  It  was 
unmistakably  Sally.  The  next  day,  Monday,  I  received 
the  following  note,  written  Christmas  night,  showing  that 
the  writer  had  no  knowledge  of  having  (as  Sally)  tele- 
phoned me  Christmas  morning: 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  forgive  me  for  neglecting  to  telephone 
you  as  you  wished  this  morning.     I  have  lost  the  past  twenty- 
four  hours  absolutely  —  as  if  it  were  twenty-four  seconds. 
"  Very  sincerely  yours," 

I  soon  learned  what  had  happened  from  both  Miss 
Beauchamp  and  Sally. 

On  Saturday  afternoon,  the  day  before  Christmas,  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  in  church,  sitting  on  the  right  hand  side, 
and  the  choir  was  singing  the  processional.  Then  all  of  a 
sudden,  so  to  speak,  she  found  herself  on  the  left  hand 
side  of  the  church,  though  they  were  still  singing  the  pro- 
cessional. How  she  had  changed  her  place  she  did  not 
know,  though  at  the  time  she  supposed  she  might  have 
had  a  trance  and  made  the  change.  Having  learned  by 
experience  not  to  give  herself  away,  she  said  nothing,  but 
after  leaving  the  church  with  her  friend  Miss  K.  she 
remarked  to  her,  "We  are  going  to  have  a  cold  Christ- 
mas." At  this  Miss  K.  laughed,  which  she  thought 
queer.     She  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  say  nothing 



more,  but  was  rather  surprised  that  Miss  K.,  who  had  pre- 
viously asked  her  to  spend  Christmas  Eve  with  her,  said 
nothing  about  it.  She  was  further  surprised  on  reaching 
home  to  find  Christmas  gifts  about.  All  seemed  to  have 
changed  since  she  left  home  for  church.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  discovered  that  twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed 
since  she  first  entered  the  church,  and  that  during  this 
time  Christmas  had  come  and  nearly  gone,  though  she 
remembered  nothing  of  it.  The  music  of  the  processional 
had  apparently  put  her  into  a  trance,  and  this  same  music 
had,  twenty-four  hours  later,  waked  her  up  again. 

It  transpired  that  Sally  had  enjoyed  Christmas  Eve  with 
Miss  K.,  and  in  fact  had  fulfilled  all  the  family  engage- 
ments. Therefore  Sally  had  her  Christmas,  but  Miss 
Beauchamp,  to  her  disappointment,  lost  hers. 

Another  incident,  illustrating  how  Miss  Beauchamp  did 
not  get  on,  is  worth  recording  on  account  of  its  psycho- 
logical importance.  It  shows  not„only  the  coexistence  of 
two  mincls>.hut.tha_£oexistence  of  a  subconscious  sane  mind 
with  a  delirious  mind. 

I  was  summoned  to  visit  Miss  Beauchamp  at  the  house 
of  Miss  K.,  where  she  was  said  to  have  arrived  the  previous 
evening  in  a  delirious  condition.  She  was  still  delirious 
on  my  arrival,  and  did  not  know  me  or  her  surroundings ; 
but  Sally,  with  whom  she  kept  alternating,  was  perfectly 
sane,  and  rather  delighted  with  the  condition  of  affairs. 
I  was  never  able  to  learn  exactly  what  had  happened  to 
cause  the  catastrophe,  nor  could  Miss  Beauchamp  recall 
the  incident  excepting  in  a  fragmentary  way.^     It  is  fairly. 

1  Miss  B.  afterward  wrote :  "  All  the  arrangements  for  leaving  there  [her 
own  lodgings]  were  made  by  Sally,  who  pretended  that  she  was  acting  under 
yonr  instructions.  I  believed  that  she  was,  —  yet  your  strange  silence,  and  my 
own  inability  to  speak  of  the  hospital  made  me  very  uneasy.  I  felt  there  was 
something  wrong,  although  I  did  not  know  what.  The  last  day  there  made 
me  fearfully  nervous,  frightened,  hysterical :  everything  was  so  strange,  and 
you  did  not  come  or  send  any  word.  From  that  time  my  recollections  are 
very  scrappy  indeed.    I  remember  being  in  some  station  in  the  evening  ( , 


clear,  however,  that  Sally,  taking  advantage  of  a  sugges- 
tion of  mine  that  it  would  be  advisable  for  Miss  Beau- 
champ  to  go  to  a  hospital  for  a  few  days,  and  pretending 
that  she  was  acting  under  my  instructions,  had  packed  her 
trunks  and  sent  them  away,  leaving  only  a  handbag  with 
the  few  things  necessary  for  travelling.  The  scheme  must 
have  been  very  carefully  planned,  but  where  Sally  carried 
Miss  Beauchamp  before  ending  at  Miss  K.  's  is  a  mystery. 
The  next  scene  of  which  I  was  a  witness  was  psychologi- 
cally impressive,  not  to  say  dramatic. 

Miss  Beauchamp  did  not  recognize  me,  or  Miss  K.,  or 
her  surroundings.  In  her  delirium  she  was  living  over 
again,  I  think,  some  event  of  the  past.  She  imagined 
herself  at  Cohasset,  and  awaiting  some  one.  She  was 
in  great  distress.  When  I  endeavored  to  bring  her  to 
herself,  Sally  at  once  appeared  instead,  laughing  and 
treating  the  matter  as  a  great  joke.  There  was  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  delirium  or  mental  disturbance  about 
this  secondary  consciousness,  who  disclosed  the  content 
of  her  other  self's  delirium.  The  two  personalities,  the 
delirious  and  the  sane,  kept  spontaneously  disappearing 
and  alternating  with  each  other.  Sally  even  agreed  to  act 
as  nurse,  and  to  "come"  at  intervals  and  take  the  pre- 
scribed food  which  delirious  Miss  Beauchamp  refused,  — 
an  agreement  which  Sally  carefully  observed. 

larger,  I  think),  and  afterward  I  remember  being  driven  slowly  over  some 
very  bumpy  roads.  It  was  still  dark,  and  raining  hard.  Tliere  was  no  one 
with  me,  I  am  sure,  for  I  kept  wondering  why  you  should  have  sent  me  alone 
instead  of  coming  with  me  as  you  had  before.  Then  I  remember  a  nurse  or 
maid  —  some  one  all  in  white  with  white  cap  —  bringing  me  a  cup  of  hot 
beef-tea;  then  Miss  K..,  sitting  opposite  me  in  her  room  talking;  tlien  look- 
ing at  my  watch  and  finding  it  a  quarter  to  four.  From  a  quarter  to  four 
until  a  little  after  si.K  I  remember  everything.  Then  after  that  nothing,  — 
except  my  despair  at  finding  your  letter  destroyed  and  the  pieces  threaded  ou 
a  long  hat  pin  in  my  hand.  In  the  evening  I  saw  tlie  street  very  distinctly 
for  some  minutes ;  then  I  remember  being  startled  by  a  tremendous  report 
close  to  my  head,  and  turning  I  saw  Miss  K.  with  a  pistol  in  Iier  hand.  .  .  . 
Then  it  was  morning  again  and  I  saw  "  —  [unfinisiied].  Miss  K.  informed  me 
she  had  fired  off  the  pistol  with  the  idea  of  producing  a  shock  that  would 
briug  Miss  B.  back  to  consciousness. 


When  one  stops  to  think  about  it,  the  coexistence  of  a 
normal  mind  with  a  delirious  mind  in  the  same  individual 
seems  a  curious  phenomenon,  but  it  is  one  which  has 
been  recorded  before.  To  observe  before  one's  eyes  a 
delirious  personality  suddenly  change  to  a  sane  one,  and 
vice  versa,  would  have  been  startling  if  we  had  not  become 
accustomed  to  strange  things  in  this  strange  case.  Then, 
again,  to  be  informed  by  one  mind  of  the  delirious  vagaries 
of  the  other  mind  showed  very  conclusively  the  distinction 
between  the  two.  To  state  the  matter  in  another  way, 
here  was  a  delirious  person  within  whom  there  apparently 
existed  a  sane  personality,  cognizant  of  every  delirious 
thought  and  action,  able  to  report  upon  everything  tliat 
took  place  within  and  without,  acting  as  nui-se  to  the 
delirious  consciousness,  coming  at  the  appointed  time  to 
take  the  prescribed  remedies,  and  giving  warning  to  the 
physician  of  the  mental  perturbation. 

Miss  Beauchamp  became  a  puzzle  to  her  friends,  who 
did  not  understand  her  changing  moods.  These  "  moods  " 
really  meant  a  transformation  into  and  from  Sally,  who 
thus  came  more  frequently  into  touch  with  social  life. 
Indeed,  Sally  was  fast  getting  to  "the  top  of  the  heap," 
as  she  wrote  when  she  first  got  her  eyes  open.  She  was 
"  coming "  more  readily  and  more  often,  so  that  Miss 
Beauchamp  seemed  to  herself  to  be  "  losing "  a  greater 
amount  of  time.  Miss  B.  felt  too,  as  she  wrote  in  one  of 
her  letters,  that  she  was  "possessed."  "Losing  time" 
meant  that  Sally  was  absorbing  a  greater  part  of  Miss 
Beauchamp's  life. 

Sometimes,  though  this  was  more  common  at  a  later 
date,  the  transition  from  one  pereonality  to  the  other 
would  take  place  during  the  course  of  a  conversation. 
Then  Sally,  knowing  Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts,  could 
go  on  with  the  conversation  and  play  her  part;  but  Miss 
Beauchamp,  if  she  came  to  herself  at  such  timeSy  exchang- 

SALLY  "ON  TOP  OF  THE  HEAP"     117 

ing  places  with  Sally,  would  be  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
had  gone  before,  and  at  her  wits'  end  not  to  betray  herself. 
Sally,  on  the  other  hand,  used  to  impersonate  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  copying  as  far  as  she  was  able  her  mannerisms  and 
tone.  At  other  times,  forgetful  or  heedless  of  Miss  B.'s 
character,  she  would  throw  herself  into  the  game,  regard- 
less of  consequences,  giving  vent  to  her  own  frolicsome 
irresponsibility,  while  her  friends  would  gape  at  the  sudden 
transformation  of  serious,  dignified,  reticent  Miss  Beau- 
champ.  It  must  have  been  puzzling,  as  I  have  been 
assured  it  was,  to  see  a  person  suddenly  change  in  mood 
and  expression,  without  apparent  rhyme  or  reason ;  at  one 
moment  exhibiting  tlie  irresponsible,  heedless,  high  spirits 
of  youth,  and  the  next  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  becoming  depressed,  sombre,  and  grave.  Again,  as 
Sally  she  would  make  statements,  assertions,  promises, 
and  engagements  which  as  Miss  Beauchamp  she  would 
deny,  to  the  discomfort  and  confusion  of  her  friends. 
Many  of  the  contretemps  resulting  from  this,  sometimes 
amusing,  sometimes  annoying,  will  come  out  in  the  course 
of  this  study.  But  it  is  not  fair  to  credit  Sally  with 
naughtiness  only:  the  Recording  Angel  must  inscribe 
many  good  deeds  against  her  name.  She  was  not  always 
reckless  and  regardless  of  the  family  reputation.  Except- 
ing where  her  own  amusements  or  her  own  special  wishes 
were  concerned,  she  generally  protected  Miss  Beauchamp, 
particularly  with  strangei-s,  pretending  as  I  have  said  to  be 
the  same  personality,  copying  her  manner,  going  on  with 
the  same  conversations,  and  doing  the  same  things  that 
Miss  Beauchamp  had  been  doing  a  moment  before.  Simi- 
larly she  would  perform  her  daily  duties  and  even  loyally 
carry  out  her  engagements,  provided  they  did  not  conflict 
with  her  own  plans. 

Sally  should  be  credited  also  with  keeping  me  informed 
of  the  various  disturbing  elements  in  Miss  Beauchamp's 


life  (at  least  those  for  which  Sally  herself  was  not  respon- 
sible) that  from  day  to  day  acted  injuriously  upon  her 
nervous  system,  exciting  the  nerve  storms  and  shocks  to 
which  reference  has  already  been  made.  Often  it  was 
Miss  Beauchamp's  own  meditations  and  emotions  which 
were  the  offending  factors,  and  on  these  Sally  kept  me 
well  posted.  Miss  Beauchamp,  for  reasons  already  given, 
was  exasperatingly  reticent  about  such  matters,  and  kept 
me  in  the  dark  about  much  that  it  was  important  to  know. 
Sally's  information,  which  always  proved  to  be  correct, 
was  a  great  help. 

On  the  other  hand,  Sally's  motives  were  not  always  so 
lofty,  for  with  me  it  was  often  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
her  own  way  that  she  would  impersonate  Miss  Beauchamp. 
When  blocked  in  some  design  I  have  seen  Sally  over 
and  over  again  attempt  to  pass  herself  off  as  Miss  Beau- 
champ, but  the  pretension  could  always  be  detected  after 
a  moment's  observation.  I  have  also  frequently  seen  Miss 
Beauchamp  struggling  against  "something  inside  of  her," 
as  she  termed  it,  which  it  required  no  prophetic  knowledge 
to  guess  was  Sally  trying  to  compel  her  to  act  against 
her  own  wish.  And  when  Sally  was  foiled  in  this,  owing 
to  my  intervention,  that  young  phenomenon  would  force 
Miss  Beauchamp  out  of  existence,  and  coming  herself 
would  seek  in  disguise  to  escape  from  the  room. 

In  these  scenes  two  closely  related  phenomena  of  con- 
siderable psychological  importance  were  brought  under 
direct  observation,  namely,  ahoulia  and  impuhions.  The 
latter  phenomena  had  been  frequently  complained  of  by 
B  I,  and  frequent  reference  has  been  made  to  them,  but 
no  opportunities  to  actually  observe  them  had  been  pre- 
sented. The  incidents  which  will  be  related  in  the  next 
chapter  confirm  the  statements  of  the  victim  of  these 



IT  probably  will  be  asked  in  connection  with  the  phe- 
nomena and  events  about  to  be  described  in  this  chap- 
ter, How  much  did  Miss  Beauchamp  know  at  this  time 
about  the  nature  of  her  infirmity?  In  a  psychological 
sense  she  knew  very  little,  but  regarded  herself  as  one 
"possessed"  in  much  the  same  sense  as  it  is  said  in  the 
Bible  that  a  person  is  "  possessed."  She  was  well  aware 
that  she  went  into  trances  and  in  those  trances  did  extra- 
ordinary things,  and  behaved  in  a  way  that  shocked  her 
sense  of  propriety.  She  realized,  too,  though  in  a  somewhat 
indefinite  manner,  that  her  possessions  at  times  influenced 
her  every-day  actions,  and  in  some  way  interfered  with  the 
freedom  of  her  will.  But  the  psychological  nature  of  these 
attacks  was  unknown  to  her,  and  in  fact  was  carefully 
concealed,  so  that  her  knowledge  was  very  indefinite.  She 
was  ignorant  of  the  phenomena  of  the  multiple  personali- 
ties, and  was  not  allowed  to  know  that  her  trance  state  was 
a  second  veritable  personality  which  persisted  in  a  more  or 
less  sharply  differentiated  form  as  a  subconsciousness  dur- 
ing her  normal  waking  state.  It  was  necessary  at  times 
to  infonn  her  of  what  she  had  done  during  her  trances,  and 
sometimes  to  warn  her  of  plans  and  intended  escapades 
which  in  this  state  she  had  concocted,  but  her  trance 
doings  were  always  spoken  of  as  her  own,  as  if  done  by 
herself  in  a  state  of  somnambulism.  Sally's  letters  she 
regarded  as  her  own  trance  vagaries,  and  Sally's  signature 


as  a  name  used  by  herself  for  the  purpose  of  canying  out 
a  part.  Her  feelings  of  being  "  possessed  "  she  connected 
in  an  indefinite  way  with  her  trances  and  realized  that  from 
time  to  time  her  mind  and  body  were  controlled  much  as 
one  might  be  controlled  by  convulsive  phenomena.  Al- 
though her  idea  was  somewhat  vague,  she  inferred  that 
this  control  was  due  to  one  part  of  her  mind  acting  upon  the 
other  part  and  upon  her  body.  This  really  was  the  actual 
feeling  that  she  had  when  "possessed,"  and  against  this 
possession,  when  it  came  upon  her,  she  struggled  with  all 
her  will.  I  think  this  conception,  too,  was  vaguely  con- 
nected with  the  ethical  idea  of  punishment  for  sins,  and 
hence  the  diabolical  nature  of  the  possession ;  and  she  half 
believed  that  by  punishment  and  prayer  her  devil  was  to 
be  cast  out  of  her.  But  her  conception  involved  no  defi- 
nite notion  that  that  which  possessed  her  was  in  any  sense 
of  the  word  a  distinct  subconscious  personality,  differen- 
tiated from  herself,  anything  to  which  a  personal  name 
might  be  given.^  With  this  explanation  in  mind,  it  will 
be  easy  to  properly  interpret  her  position  in  connection 
with  tlie  following  phenomena : 

Ahoulia  and  impulsions.  It  has  been  already  explained 
that  by  ahoulia  is  meant  an  enfeeblement  or  paralysis  of 
the  will.  It  may  originate  in  several  ways.  It  may,  for 
instance,  originate  in  conditions  confined  entirely  to  the 
field  of  the  waking  consciousness.  The  ordinary  aboulia 
which  Miss  Beauchamp  exhibited,  that  which  expressed 
itself  in  morbid  reticence,  for  instance,  had  such  a  pathol- 
ogy. But  it  also  may  result  from  the  influence  of  sub- 
conscious ideas.  On  several  occasions  Miss  Beauchamp 
gave  manifestations  of  this  variety.  Then  Sally,  by  exert- 
ing her  will  against  that  of  her  other  self,  could  produce 

1  Such  a  notion  would  involve  an  interpretation  of  the  phenomena.  At 
this  stage  of  our  study  I  do  not  wish  to  bo  understood  as  committing  myself 
by  implication  to  any  precise  hypothesis,  beyond  that  of  a  subcousciousnesA 
of  some  sort. 


an  inhibition  of  such  a  degree  that  Miss  Beauchamp  would 
find  herself  unable  to  will  the  simplest  act,  whether  it  were 
speaking,  writing,  studying,  or  walking. 

It  has  been  also  explained  that  by  impulsions  (syno- 
nyms: obsessions,  imperative  ideas,  zwangsvorstellungen) 
are  meant  imperious  impulses  to  some  action  which  may  be 
against  the  person's  own  wish  and  will.  The  person  is  often 
painfully  and  helplessly  conscious  of  their  domination.  It 
is  now  well  recognized,  thanks  to  the  work  of  Janet,  that 
these  phenomena  may  in  certain  cases  be  the  action  of  fixed 
ideas  or  emotions  in  a  second  consciousness  unknown  to 
the  waking  self.  The  impulses  by  which  Miss  Beauchamp 
complained  that  she  was  tormented  were  plainly  of  this 
nature.  The  way  she  told  ridiculous  lies  at  an  earlier 
period  has  been  already  described,  as  well  as  the  impulses 
of  a  different  form,  which  soon  after  her  return  from 
Europe  gave  her  the  sense  of  being  "possessed."  The 
evidence  for  these  facts  had  thus  far  rested  upon  the  com- 
plaints of  the  subject,  but  the  following  incident  illustrates 
a  struggle  actually  observed  between  two  consciousnesses ; 
the  action  of  one  upon  the  other  resulting  in  both  aboulia 
and  impulsion.  Miss  Beauchamp,  at  first  unable  to  write 
a  letter,  ends  by  being  the  victim  of  an  imperative  impulse. 

One  day,  early  in  November,  Miss  Beauchamp  came  to 
the  consulting  room,  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a  letter  in 
my  presence.  This  letter  was  intended  to  explain  the 
nature  of  her  malady  to  her  unconsciously  troublesome 
coiTespondent,  Jones,  who  was  ignorant  of  her  mental  dis- 
ability. It  was  hoped  that  the  letter,  being  countersigned 
by  me,  would  put  an  end  to  the  correspondence  and  en- 
gagements in  which  her  irresponsible  self  still  persisted.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  tlrat  Sally  could  thwart  this  scheme. 

Miss  Beauchamp  sat  down  to  write  the  letter,  but 
at  once  met  with  a  difiiculty.  She  succeeded  in  writ- 
ing a  few  lines,  but  all  the  time  kept  repeating,  "  Don't 


let  me  go  [meaning,  out  of  the  room],  Don't  let  me  go." 
Her  tone  was  pleading,  and  her  manner  nervous  and 
agitated.  She  gave  the  impression  of  struggling  against 
some  controlling  force, —  something  that  waa  taking  pos- 
session of  her  brain  and  muscles  against  her  will.  Tlie 
expression  of  her  face  was  worried  and  depressed;  her 
movements  halting  and  jerky.  She  made  every  effort  to 
write,  but  kept  stopping  and  constantly  shifting  her  posi- 
tion, sometimes  half  rising,  then  sitting  again;  at  one 
moment  tlirowing  down  her  pen,  then  taking  it  up,  repeat- 
ing meanwhile  in  a  supplicating  way,  "  Don't  let  me  go." 
I  changed  my  seat  to  one  between  her  and  the  door,  re- 
marking that  it  was  now  physically  impossible  for  her  to 
go.  Thereupon  she  became  more  quiet.  Presently  she 
altered  her  tone  and  said,  "Please  let  me  go."  This  phrase 
she  would  repeat  in  reply  to  every  remark  made  to  her. 
The  nervous  manner  had  disappeared  ;  her  face  was  placid 
and  serious ;  her  movements  no  longer  agitated ;  the  tone 
of  her  voice,  although  composed,  was  not  depressed.  What 
did  the  change  mean?  Plainly  the  obsession  had  ceased. 
I  felt  certain  that  it  was  Sally  trying  to  pass  herself  off  as 
Miss  Beauchamp,  and  in  this  disguise  escape.  Charged 
with  the  fact,  and  put  to  the  test  of  reading  French,  which 
this  personality  could  not  do,  she  at  first  evaded,  but  soon, 
seeing  that  she  was  caught,  burst  out  laughing  and  showed 
herself  in  her  customary'  colors,  enjo3dng  the  joke. 

Such  scenes  as  this  were  the  outcome  of  a  contest  of 
wills,  —  of  Sally's  will  against  Miss  Beauchamp's  will. 
Later  and  frequent  investigations  demonstrated  this  origin 
of  the  phenomena.  In  these  contests  Sally  usually  won, 
and  Miss  Beauchamp's  will  would  be  paralyzed.  The  latter 
would  not  only  find  herself  unable  to  will  to  do  what  she 
wished,  but  often  was  actually  compelled  to  do  something 
she  did  not  wish  to  do.  Over  and  over  again  Miss  Beau- 
champ  has  tried  to  tell  me  something  of  importance, — 


something  concerning  her  welfare,  and  of  which  she  had 
purposely  come  to  give  me  information,  but  which  if  told 
might  thwart  Sally's  schemes,  and  as  often,  after  vain 
effort  to  speak,  she  has  given  it  up,  remarking,  "  Well,  it 
doesn't  matter."  The  same  phenomenon  has  been  mani- 
fested by  B  II.  This  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
ahoulia.  Arising  in  the  numner  described,  it  was  of  im- 
portance in  that  it  showed  the  existence  of  a  secondary 
consciousness,  concomitant  or  coexisting  with  the  habitual 
consciousness.  For  two  wills  to  contend  against  each  other 
they  must  coexist.  Sally,  then,  did  not  simply  alternate 
with  Miss  Beauchamp,  she  coexisted  with  her. 

In  connection  with  the  matter  of  detecting  Sally  when 
masquerading  as  Miss  Beauchamp,  I  have  often  been  asked 
how  one  personality  differs  from  the  other.  Of  coui-se  the 
mode  of  speech  and  mannerisms  of  each  differ,  but  more 
than  this,  it  is  a  very  interesting  fact  that  with  both  Miss 
Beauchamp  and  Sally  every  mood,  feeling,  and  emotion 
is  accompanied  automatically  by  its  own  facial  expres- 
sion, so  that,  as  each  individuality  has  a  dominant,  and 
for  the  most  part  continuous,  emotional  state  of  mind,  each 
wears  a  corresponding  expression,  different  muscles  coming 
into  play  in  each.  By  this  expression  alone  it  is  generally 
possible  at  a  glance  to  recognize  the  personality.  As 
this  expression  is  purely  automatic  and  the  accompanying 
resultant  of  the  emotion,  it  is  impossible  for  one  person- 
ality completelj'^  to  simulate  the  other.  When  Sally  tries 
to  impersonate  Miss  Beauchamp  the  best  she  can  do 
is  to  look  serious;  but  as  she  does  not  feel  serious,  or 
actually  have  the  emotion  or  mood  of  Miss  Beauchamp, 
her  face  does  not  assume  the  expression  of  that  personality. 
Occasionally  Sally  will  have  for  a  moment,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  some  event,  such  as  a  scolding  or  threat  of  punish- 
ment, a  depressing  or  anxious  emotion  identical  with  that 
of  Miss  Beauchamp ;  then  her  face  will  wear  an  expres- 


sion  indistinguishable  from  the  latter's,  but  as  a  rule  these 
variations  are  only  momentary. 

Three  weeks  later,  November  21,  another  and  similar 
incident,  in  which  abouUa  and  impulsions  were  manifested, 
occurred.  This  incident  had  an  amusing  side,  though  it  led 
to  what  almost  might  be  called  "  a  fight  to  a  finish  "  between 
the  two  personalities.  The  first  letter  to  Jones,  eventually 
written  and  sent,  having  failed  to  accomplish  its  purpose, 
owing  I  suppose  to  the  fact  that  it  was  too  great  a  tax 
upon  the  creduhty  of  her  correspondent  (Such  is  the  wis- 
dom of  the  uninformed  !),  it  was  arranged  that  this  time  I 
should  dictate  the  letter,  Miss  Beauchamp  merely  copying 
it.  She  had  come  for  this  purpose.  On  entering  the  con- 
sulting room  she  appeared  restless  and  nervous,  saying 
constantly  that  she  "  must  go,"  she  could  not  stay,  she 
would  come  back,  etc.,  etc.  Her  manner  plainly  indicated 
that  she  was  struggling  against  some  force  which  was 
impelling  her  to  go.  Finally  she  said  that  she  felt  as  if 
"  possessed " ;  that  something  not  herself  was  trying  to 
prevent  her  from  staying.  For  its  moral  effect,  I  locked 
the  door.  Still  she  was  so  restless  that  after  making  a 
futile  attempt  to  write  the  letter  she  had  to  give  it  up. 
Soon,  as  might  have  been  anticipated,  she  changed  to  Sally, 
who  as  before  attempted  to  escape  in  the  disguise  of  her 
other  self.  As  usual,  Sally  enjoyed  the  joke,  but  her  merri- 
ment turned  to  rebellion  as  soon  as  an  attempt  was  made 
to  control  her.  With  much  violence  of  feeling  she  objected 
to  the  letter,  and  to  anything  being  done  for  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  calling  her  "  a  chump,"  "  stupid,"  etc.  It  became 
necessary  to  resort  to  hypnotism,  which  resulted  in  the 
confession  of  the  details  of  an  engagement  for  the  follow- 
ing Wednesday  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  After 
quite  a  scene  and  the  usual  lecture  on  her  behavior,  Sally 
became  submissive  and  promised  not  to  keep  the  engage- 


ment.  She  was  then  changed  back  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  who 
calmly  and  easily  wrote  the  letter  as  dictated. 

Miss  Beauchamp  complained  again  of  her  position,  saying 
it  was  "  terrible,"  that  it  was  a  "  fiend  "  that  was  bothering 
her,  etc.,  etc.  A  few  minutes  later  Sally  again  came  upon 
the  scene  and  at  once  revealed  herself  by  mimicking  and 
jeering  at  her  other  self.  She  was  irresistibly  funny,  in 
spite  of  the  tragic  side  of  it  all.  "  Really,"  she  said,  copy- 
ing the  tone  and  manner  and  repeating  the  very  words  of 
Miss  Beauchamp,  "  Really,  Dr.  Prince,  I  must  be  possessed ; 
a  perfect  fiend  is  in  me.  I  don't  know  Avhat  I  shall  do  1 
Such  a  horrible  thing !  I  should  think,  Dr.  Prince,  you 
would  hate  me."     Then  she  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

The  appointed  hour  for  Sally's  escapade,  be  it  remem- 
bered, was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  following 
Wednesday.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  at  three 
o'clock.  Miss  Beauchamp  had  agreed  to  pay  me  a  visit. 
When  these  hours  arrived  there  was  witnessed  by  those 
about  her  a  most  remarkable  exhibition  of  phenomena, 
which  can  only  be  interpreted  as  those  of  impulsions  on 
the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  as  a  struggle  between  two 
coexistent  minds  in  one  body.  My  information  about  it 
came  in  this  way:  In  the  afternoon  or  early  evening  I 
received  two  notes :  one  from  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  one 
from  Mrs.  R.,  with  whom  she  was  boarding.  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  letter  ran  as  follows  : 

"Will  you  please  send  me  some  morphia?  The  bromide 
does  n't  help,  and  I  am  thoroughly  upset.  I  can  remember, 
really  I  do  remember,  but  things  are  trying  to  slip  from  me, 
and  I  am  so  nervous  and  tired.  I  want  to  sleep  too,  and  I  am 
stuttering  awfully.  It  is  so  dreadful  —  all  of  it  —  but  if  you 
will  send  me  the  morphia  I  shall  surely  be  all  right  to-morrow. 
Please,  please  do." 

The  other  letter,  from  Mrs.  R.,  stated  that  Miss  Beau- 
champ was  in  poor  condition  and  asked  advice. 


Later  in  the  evening  Mrs.  R.  telephoned  that  she  was 
quite  alarmed  about  her  charge,  who  was  restless  and  ner- 
vous and  in  a  queer  state.  On  my  arrival,  about  11  o'clock, 
I  found  Miss  Beauchamp  stuttering  badly,  and  in  a  mental 
condition  resembling  that  of  a  person  lightly  hypnotized. 
A  few  suggestions  restored  her  to  herself.  The  following 
facts  were  then  learned  :  Mrs.  R.  stated  that  at  about  three 
o'clock  Miss  Beauchamp  had  acted  very  curiously ;  "  jump- 
ing and  squirming  and  wriggling  about "  in  the  most  re- 
markable manner.  At  about  eight  o'clock  this  was  repeated. 
Miss  Beauchamp  stated  on  her  part  that  at  the  earlier 
hour  she  had  made  an  effort  to  leave  the  house  to  keep  her 
appointment  with  me,  but  that  she  simply  could  not  keep 
it.  She  felt  herself  controlled  by  something  which  pre- 
vented her.  She  had  become  very  restless  and  was  obliged 
to  give  up  her  intention.  Later  in  the  evening  she  had  an 
almost  irresistible  desire  to  go  out  of  the  house,  without 
any  definable  aim.  Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  this 
desire  became  strongest,  and  she  was  then  at  her  worst. 
Concluding  that  this  impulse  was  one  of  her  possessions 
she  determined  to  fight  it.  Though  beaten  in  the  after- 
noon this  time  she  had  won  the  victory,  much  to  her 
delight,  but  from  all  accounts  it  had  been  a  "nervous" 
afternoon.  As  to  the  stuttering,  she  felt  as  if  some 
one  had  control  of  her  tongue.  The  next  morning  Miss 
Beauchamp  received  the  following  letter  from  Sally : 

"  I  am  positively  ashamed  of  you,  my  sainted  Christine,  that 
you  should  pretend  to  be  shocked  because  I  choose  to  go  to 

with  ix)or  dear  W.     I  shall  go  with  him  just  as  often  as 

I  choose,  in  spite  of  you,  and  in  spite  of  Dr.  Prince  too,  and 
you  know  that  you  liave  been  no  end  of  times.  You  are  sneaky, 
just  sneaky,  and  if  I  were  you  I  'd  confess  my  own  sins  before 
I  began  bewailing  those  of  other  people.  And  please  let  Dr. 
Prince  alone.  He  tells  lies  and  squeezes  people,  and  he  is  per- 
fectly horrid  to  you  too.     Do'  be  reasonable  and  we  can  get  on 


loads  better.  I  won't  be  squeezed.  I  just  won't.  I  '11  make 
you  all  dead  first.  Your  prayer  book  is  in  the  salt-box  covered 
way  up,  if  you  want  it.  Perhaps  you  'd  better  rescue  it  so  that 
you  can  pray  out  of  it.  And  your  silly  old  examples  for  the 
red-haired  one  ^  are  all  in  tiny  wee  pieces  which  you  may  enjoy 
putting  together  again,  as  long  as  it  is  so  awfully  important 
you  should  do  that  sort  of  thing.  You  are  afraid  of  everybody 
—  you  are  —  nobody  wanted  you  to  go  with  W.  last  night  and 
you  ought  to  be  sorry  you  did  not  take  me  for  a  walk  instead 
of  staying  at  home  and  kicking  up  such  a  row.  Dr.  Prince 
wanted  to  shake  you,  and  so  did  Mrs.  R.,  and  I  just  wish  they 
had.  Nobody  shakes  you  even  when  you  have  ultrer*^  motives 
and  I  am  always  getting  [word  omitted;  scolded?].  The  Mar- 
garet Margaret  ^  is  all  gone  too.  I  made  cigarette  papers  out 
of  it.  Are  n't  you  glad?  I  did  it  all  for  you.  I  knew  you'd 
like  it,  so  good-bye  dearie,  and  don't  you  dare  go  anywhere  un- 
less I  tell  you  you  may. 

"  Your  affectionate  guardian." 

That  same  afternoon  Sally  boasted  that  she  had  made 
Miss  Beauchamp  stutter ;  that  she  had  prevented  her  keep- 
ing her  appointment  with  me ;  and  that  she  had  produced 
the  desire  to  go  out  in  the  evening,  although  she  had  no 
intention  of  keeping  the  engagement,  intending  simply  "  to 
take  a  walk."  She  had  done  all  this  by  the  process  of 
"  willing." 

A  comparison  of  Sally's  letter  with  the  following  from 
Miss  Beauchamp  enclosing  it  is  interesting  as  showing  the 
difference  in  the  characters  of  the  two  personalities : 

"  I  do  hope  this  evening's  accident*  has  proved  less  serious 
than  Mrs. feared  when  I  saw  her,  aud  if  my  delaying  you 

1  One  of  her  teachers. 

^  Ulterior.  This  was  a  new  word  Sally  had  learned  from  me,  aud  it  was 
evidently  too  much  for  her. 

8  Some  literary  work  which  represented  much  labor. 

*  Referring  to  a  carriage  accident  by  which  my  horse  was  killed.  The 
accident  occurred  while  my  carriage  was  waiting  for  me  during  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  visit. 


was  in  any  degree  responsible  for  it  all  I  can  only  hope  that  you 
will  believe  I  regret  it  from  the  very  depths  of  my  soul.  You 
must  not  tell  me  to  come  to  you  again,  ever;  not  wholly  because 
of  this  that  has  occurred,  but  partly  because  for  a  long  time  I 
have  felt  that  I  have  been  trespassing  far  too  deeply  on  your 
time  and  patience.  And  through  it  all  I  have  done  so  little  to 
help  you,  so  much  to  hinder !  It  is  only  childish,  as  you  say, 
to  keep  repeating  that  one  is  sorry,  so  very  sorry,  for  all  these 
things.  This  time  I  hope  to  be  stronger.  I  enclose  the  note 
you  asked  for  and  only  wish  it  may  be  of  some  interest  psycho- 
logically —  it  is  utterly  absurd  from  any  other  point  of  view. 
Do  forgive  me  as  many  of  my  sins  and  shortcomings  as  you 
can,  and  believe  that  I  shall  be  always  infinitely  more  grateful 
to  you  than  I  can  say." 

The  habit  which  Sally  had  of  making  engagements  un- 
known to  Miss  Beauchamp  was  becoming  seriously  trouble- 
some. It  not  only  interfered  with  Miss  Beauchamp's  own 
plans  but  it  distressed  her  to  discover  later  that  in  this  in- 
terval of  lost  time  she  had  carried  out  plans  objectionable 
to  hereelf,  even  to  reversing  what  she  had  previously  said 
and  done.  Then  as  Sally  found  amusement  in  writing 
letters  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  telling  just  enough  of  what  slie 
had  done  to  allow  Miss  Beauchamp  to  infer  the  woi'st,  the 
latter's  imagination  would  run  riot,  conjure  up  all  sorts  of 
possioixities,  and  inspire  a  state  of  terror.  The  letters 
would  allude  to  matters  of  which  she  was  ignorant,  and 
therefore  keep  her  mind  in  a  state  of  apprehension. 

Here  is  a  specimen  of  Sally's  letters;  others  will  be 
given  in  the  next  chapter: 

"You  dear,  sweet,  good,  little  girl!  Never  heard  of  Jones 
before,  did  you?  No  wonder  Dr.  Prince  is  utterly  disgusted 
with  you.  Cannot  even  confess  straight!  I  shall  tell  him 
everything,  and  then  you  '11  see  what  he  thinks  of  you. 
'  Damned  from  here  to  eternity,'  just  as  Jones  says. 




1.  Childish  6.  Foolish 

2.  Emotional  7.  Imprudent 

3.  Stupid  8.  No  discretion 

4.  Selfish  9.  False  ideas 

5.  Inconsiderate  10.  Infant. 

Miss  Devil  Lady." 

The  final  epithet,  referring  to  Miss  Beauchamp's  feeling 
of  being  possessed  by  a_^vil,  Sally  frequently  scribbled 
over  Miss  B.'s  letters.  The  ten  sins  are  expressions  which 
she  had  picked  out  of  various  criticisms  made  upon  her  by 
Jones,  without  regard  to  the  context.  The  sins  with  which 
poor  Miss  Beauchamp  was  charged  are  presumptive  evi- 
dence of  mistaken  identity,  for  no  one  could  look  upon  her 
as  childish,  or  inconsiderate,  or  selfish,  unless  they  mistook 
her  for  her  subconscious  self,  Sally.  The  ingenuity  wliich 
that  self  displayed  in  sticking  mental  pins  into  Miss  Beau- 
champ  by  means  of  letters  was  quite  remarkable,  hinting 
as  she  did  in  a  most  subtle  way  at  all  sorts  of  occurrences 
dreadful  to  contemplate. 

What  was  the  secret  of  all  this  tormenting,  this  abuse  of 
her  other  self?  They  were  after  all  the  same  being,  in- 
habiting the  same  body,  —  though  no  amount  of  argument 
could  persuade  Sally  to  admit  the  fact.  Why  then  should 
Sally  delight  in  annoying  herself?  There  were  several 

In  the  first  place,  Sally  disliked  the  Hfe  she  was  perforce 
obliged  by  Miss  Beauchamp  to  live.  Sally  loved  an  out- 
door, breezy  life;  sports,  amusements,  physical  activity, 
games,  and  the  theatre.  It  was  tales  of  adventure  and  of 
outdoor  life,  of  hunting  and  riding,  that  she  delighted  in, 
and  that  I  often  had  to  tell  her  to  satisfy  her  longing. 
And  here  was  Miss  Beauchamp  devoted  to  duty  and  study  I 
In  the  Litter's  life  pleasure  and  recreation  rarely  entered. 
Sally  complained  bitterly  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  studious 
habits,  and  used  to  paralyze  her  will  so  that  she  could  not 



study.  "  I  hate  those  stupid  old  books,"  she  would  plead 
in  extenuation.  "  What  does  she  always  want  to  be  reading 
them  for  ?  What  is  there  for  me  to  do  ?  "  She  thought  it 
hard  that  she  must  be  quiet  and  passive  while  Miss  Beau- 
champ  could  do  as  she  pleased.  And  it  was  dull  for  her 
when  her  other  self  was  occupied  with  such  uninteresting 

Then,  in  the  second  place,  teasing  seems  to  be  the  natural 
outlet  of  youthful  minds.  It  seems  to  appeal  to  the  sense 
of  fun  of  every  boy  and  girl,  particularly  when  a  vent  for 
animal  spirits  cannot  be  found  in  physical  exercise. 

But  above  all,  perhaps,  the  reason  is  to  be  found  in  the 
fact  that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Sally  hated  Miss  Beau- 
champ.  "  I  hate  her,  I  just  hate  her,"  she  would  reply  to 
every  remonstrance  on  her  conduct,  and  whenever  up- 
braided for  molesting  herself,  —  her  other  self.  The  rea- 
son for  this  hatred  was  still  more  strange.  Jt.was  jealousy. 
This  showed  itself  in  various  ways.  She  was  jealous  of 
Miss  Beauchamp's  superior  attainments,  of  her  culture,  and 
above  all  of  her  popularity  with  her  friends,  and  of  the  care 
anS  solicitude  shown  for  her.  She  was  jealous  that  we  who 
were  interested  in  her  case  were  trying  to  keep  Miss  Beau- 
champ  in  existence  in  preference  to  her  secondary  con- 
sciousness, Sally.  "  Nobody  seems  to  care  what  becomes 
of  me,"  she  would  complain,  when  a  plea  was  made  that 
Miss  Beauchamp's  life  should  not  be  interfered  with. 

The  following  letter  from  Miss  Beauchamp  shows  her 
condition  of  mind  resulting  from  the  various  trials  she  had 
undergone ; 

"  I  have  been  losing  time  again,  and  hasten  to  let  you  know 
at  once,  as  I  promised ;  althougii  I  am  much  afruid  that  you 
will  consider  it  my  own  fault  because  I  have  not  been  taking 
things  philosophically.  But,  really,  everything  is  upside  down, 
and  when  things  are  in  that  condition  it  is  hard  to  be  philosophi- 
cal, even  though  one  realizes  that  not  to  be  '  shows  a  lamentable 


want  of  strength.'     I   got  extremely   tired   on  Friday,  going 

about  with  Miss  ,  and  by  the  time  I  had  seen  her  off  on 

the  train,  I  was  not  merely  tired,  but  nervous  and  overwrought, 
so  that  coming  upon  Jones  unexpectedly  in  the  evening  was  a 
great  shock  to  me.  He  was  so  angry  —  more  angry  than  I 
have  ever  known  him  —  and  was  delightfully  frank  in  telling 
me  not  merely  what  he  thought,  but  what  you  must  of  necessity 
think  concerning  me.  But,  indeed,  Dr.  Prince,  you  cannot  think 
such  things  if  your  knowledge  and  understanding  of  me  are  as 
absolute  as  I  believe  them  to  be.  You  simply  cannot,  —  and  yet 
I  have  been  able  to  think  of  little  else  these  last  few  days.  I 
have  tried  to  tell  you  everything  —  not  at  first,  I  know,  but  since 
then  —  and  even  without  my  telling  you  know  my  very  inmost 
thoughts.  There  is  only  one  thing  I  have  kept  from  you  and  that 
is  nothing  you  would  wish  to  hear.  ...  I  am  afraid  this  note  is 
not  very  coherent,  as  I  am  writing  in  the  greatest  haste  and  my 
ideas  are  mixed,  but  you  will  forgive  that,  I  know,  and  believe 

"  Sincerely  yours," 

One  of  the  most  distressing  things  to  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  her  inability  to  keep  her  promises,  owing  to  the  freaks 
of  Sally.  The  fear  of  failure  was  a  source  of  constant 
anxiety,  for  never  in  practice  did  she  look  upon  herself  as 
irresponsible,  or  consider  that  in  her  trances  she  was  an- 
other person.  Her  point  of  view  was  simply  that  she  was 
transformed  at  such  times  and  acted  differently  from  what 
she  desired  in  her  normal  condition.  "  It  is  myself,  after 
all,"  she  would  say,  pathetically.  So  when  she  promised, 
for  example,  to  keep  me  informed  by  letter  of  her  doings, 
or  what  was  more  important,  not  to  correspond  or  keep  up 
associations  with  certain  persons,  she  was  in  constant  ter- 
ror of  breaking  these  promises,  though  the  one  who  broke 
them  was  Sally,  not  herself.  To  her  it  seemed  to  be  her- 
self. Indeed,  Sally  did  everything  she  could  to  break  any 
promise  of  Miss  Beauchamp  if  it  crossed  her  own  pur- 
poses.   As  we  have  seen,  she  destroyed  Miss  B.'s  letters 


as  fast  as  they  were  written,  she  corresponded  when  for- 
bidden, and  she  made  engagements  which  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  in  honor  bound  not  to  fulfil. 

Mrs.  X.,  one  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  friends,  did  not 
realize  this,  and  in  putting  her  on  honor,  so  to  speak, 
naturally,  though  always  charitably,  thought  it  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  fault  if  she  failed  in  her  promises.  Miss  Beau- 
champ  never  sought  to  exculpate  herself  by  putting  the 
blame  on  her  subconscious  demon.  Her  only  answer  was 
self-accusing  silence,  or  "  It  is  myself,"  though  to  me  she 
would  explain  her  situation  that  I  might  understand, 
making  no  attempt,  however,  to  excuse  herself.  The  fol- 
lowing letter  gives  an  insight  into  her  mind : 

"  I  have  failed  miserably  in  keeping  my  promise  to  tell  you 
about  things,  but  you  will  believe  that  I  have  tried?  tried  until 
I  am  nearly  beside  myself  with  pain  and  vexation,  but  it  is 
useless.  My  attendant  demon  is  too  much  for  me  and  destroys 
faster  than  I  can  write.  You  know  it  has  always  had  a  strong 
dislike  for  you  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  it  is  very  much  de- 
voted to  Jones.  I  dare  not  make  this  explanation  fuller  lest  this 
note  follow  the  others.     You  will  understand,  I  am  sure." 

Suhconscious  fixed  fear.  One  very  interesting  phenom- 
enon noted  at  this  time,  and  frequently  observed  Liter  in 
varying  forms,  was  a  feeling  of  fear  whicli  seemed  to  well 
up,  so  to  speak,  out  of  the  depths  of  the  subconscious 
strata  of  her  mind.  She  complained  of  an  indefinable, 
unreasoning  fear,  without  any  particular  basis  or  specific 
object.  It  would  come  over  her  in  attacks  many  times  a 
day,  and  particularly  at  night,  last  a  few  moments,  and  then 
subside.     It  was  another  form  of  obsession. 

The  obsession  of  fears  (fixed-fears,  Angst-Neurose'),  is 
well  recognized  in  neurology,  though  a  knowledge  of  its 
pathology  is  not  as  widespread  as  it  should  be.  A  great 
many  people  are  its  victim;^  and  often  go  through  life  tor- 


tured  by  apparently  groundless  fears,  and  misunderstood  by 
their  physicians  as  well  as  by  those  about  them.  Some- 
times the  fear  is  indefinable  and  not  associated  with  any 
particular  object.  More  often  it  is  connected  with  some 
particular  thing,  as  fire,  disease,  or  drugs  ;  very  commonly 
it  takes  the  form  of  shyness.  Such  fears  may  have  their 
origin  in  subconscious  mental  states  of  which  the  habitual 
self  has  little  or  no  knowledge.  Such  fears  always  arise 
originally,  of  course,  in  some  conscious  experience,  but  later 
they  become  dissociated  and  crystallized  as  a  secondary 
subconsciousness,^  along  with  the  memoiy  of  the  event 
which  gave  rise  to  them ;  then  from  time  to  time  the  fear, 
without  the  associated  memories,  becomes  synthesized  with 
the  waking  self,  and  the  subject  experiences  an  objectless, 
indefinable  fear  which  appears  to  be  without  cause. 

Fears  of  this  kind  form  a  well-recognized  psychosis,  one 
with  which  we  have  to  deal  in  e very-day  practice.  If  this 
were  the  proper  place  I  could  give  from  my  notebook 
numerous  instances  of  this  phenomenon  in  other  subjects. 
A.  B.,  a  schoolboy,  is  overwhelmed  by  attacks  of  indefinable 
fear,  which  the  history  showed  originated  in  a  fright  at  the 
thought  of  an  imaginary  illness.  Mrs.  C.  D.  has  similar 
attacks,  which  hypnosis  discloses  developed  out  of  a  faint- 
ing attack  in  early  girlhood  twenty  years  before.  In  other 
instances  the  fear  or  anxiety  is  not  absolutely  indefinable, 
but  is  associated  with  certain  indefinite  memories  and 
thoughts  which,  however,  lack  clearness  and  are  incom- 
pletely formulated.  In  such  cases  a  portion  only  of  the 
memories  upon  which  the  fear  depends  remains  subcon- 
scious and  dissociated.  In  still  other  cases  the  whole  of 
the  obsession  belongs  to  the  waking  consciousness,  and 
then  the  fear  is  precise  and  definite. 

1  It  should  be  understood  that  by  the  secondary  subconsciousness  is  meant, 
in  the  case  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  not  the  group  of  conscious  states  called  Sally, 
but  another  group  which  in  hypnosis  becomes  a  part  of  the  hypnotic  self,  B  IL 


Manifestations  of  one  or  the  other  kind  of  subconscious 
phenomena  have  often  been  observed  in  Miss  Beauchamp. 
It  has  only  been  necessary  to  catechise  the  hypnotic  self  to 
learn  their  whole  content  and  origin.  In  the  present  in- 
stance the  subconscious  fear  originated  from  a  very  specific 
fear  and  anxiety  about  a  specific  matter  which  is  quite  dis- 
tinct in  her  mind  and  which  she  now  distinguishes  from 
the  indefinable  fear.  This  specific  fear  was  that  she  would 
break  a  promise  made  to  Mrs.  X.  and  it  had  come  upon  her 
as  a  nervous  shock  on  discovering  that  this  danger  threat- 
ened her.  It  arose  in  the  following  way :  Miss  Beauchamp 
had  received  a  letter  from  Jones  which  plainly  indicated 
that  she  as  Sally,  aild  therefore  unknown  to  herself,  had 
made  a  promise  which  involved  the  breaking  of  her  prom- 
ise to  Mrs.  X.  When  she  read  the  letter  she  discovered 
her  danger,  and  it  aroused  in  her  a  great  fear,  —  a  fear  that 
in  spite  of  herself  she  would  break  her  promise.  I  taxed 
Sally  with  this  intended  escapade,  harmless  in  itself,  but 
she  obstinately  persisted  in  her  purpose,  saying,  childlike, 
that  she  didn't  see  why  she  shouldn't,  and  so  on.  Al- 
though Miss  Beauchamp  knew  nothing  of  this  beyond  what 
was  contained  in  the  letter,  she  knew  enough,  remembering 
the  past,  to  feel  herself  upon  a  powder  magazine. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  wiites,  "  of  everything  now  —  of  myself 
most  of  all  —  for  Mrs.  X.  in  trusting  me  has  in  a  way  put  me 
on  honor,  and  if  I  fail  her  again  what  shall  I  do?  And  yet  I 
have  the  most  dreadful  feeling  that  somehow  I  shall  fail.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  Satan  himself  were  mocking  me,  playing  with 
me  as  a  cat  with  a  mouse.  'Absurd,'  you  will  say,  and  yet  it 
is  horrible  beyond  words  to  have  such  fear.  Do  you  under- 
stand? Can  you  understand  without  having  experienced  it? 
Mrs.  X.  does  not,  and  cannot,  and  is  only  distressed  by  hearing 
about  it, —  and  there  is  no  one  else  to  whom  I  can  go.  You 
will  be  confessor  again  and  forget  the  note?  It  could  not 
have  been  true,  you  know.  Really  it  could  not,  for  lots  of 


The  origin  of  the  attacks  of  indefinable  fear  was  thus 
quite  intelligible :  the  fear  of  breaking  her  promise  had 
passed  into  the  secondary  consciousness  from  which  it 
penetrated  at  moments  into  the  waking  self,  as  an  isolated 
phenomenon  without  its  associated  thoughts.  This  was 
easily  shown  by  catechizing  B  II,  who  was  able  to  give  a 
full  account  of  the  origiYi  of  the  obsession  and  the  nature 
of  the  attacks.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  secondary  con- 
sciousness (dissociated  idea  of  danger)  is  not  Sally's  con- 
sciousness, but  another  group  of  subconscious  states,  the 
memory  of  which  is  retained  by  B  II.  We  shall  meet 
with  numerous  instances  of  such  subconscious  emotions. 
They  correspond  with  the  subconscious  sensations  in  hys- 
terical anesthesia,  systematized  anesthesia,  etc. 

Apropos  of  this  subconscious  phenomenon  it  is  also  in- 
teresting to  note  that  in  a  vague  way  Miss  Beauchamp 
was  conscious  of  Sally's  enjoyment  of  the  situation.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  emotions,  pleasurable  in  this  instance  and 
previously  aroused  in  the  consciousness  of  this  second  per- 
sonality, invaded  in  a  mild  way  the  field  of  consciousness 
of  the  primary  self,  B  I.  Miss  Beauchamp  stated  that  she 
had  a  sensation  as  if  there  were  a  part  of  her  that  had  a 
feeling  of  pleasure  when  she  had  this  fear  and  anxiety 
about  breaking  her  promise.  She  was  unable  to  give  a 
more  definite  or  analytical  description  of  this  psychical 
state,  always  coming  back  to  the  idea  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  which  seemed  to  enjoy  it.^ 

The  following  incident  was  amusing,  even  if  annoying  to 
the  victim : 

Miss  Beauchamp,  as  a  protection  against  breaking  her 
promise,  had  purposely  concealed  her  address  from  one  of 

1  If  this  be  the  correct  interpretation  it  would  seem  that  the  primary  wak- 
ing self  can  be  invaded  by  subconscious  emotions  belonging  to  B  III  as  well 
as  by  those  which,  originally  belonging  to  itself,  become  split  off  to  form  the 
ordinary  subconsciousness. 


her  friends.  She  was  therefore  naturally  annoyed  when  she 
received  a  letter  from  this  person,  and  was  much  perplexed 
to  know  how  her  address,  which  was  a  new  one,  could 
have  become  known.  But  she  was  not  astonished,  because, 
as  she  said,  "  Jones  always  does  know  everything."  After 
discussing  this  matter  with  me  awhile  and  just  as  she  was 
going  out  of  the  door,  she  changed  to  Sally,  who  began  at 
once,  most  amusingly  and  with  much  seriousness,  to  mimic 
Miss  Beauchamp.  "I  can't  possibly  imagine  how  Jones 
could  know ;  it  is  most  annoying,"  she  repeated,  and  went 
on,  using  the  exact  words  just  used  by  Miss  Beauchamp, 
and  mimicking  the  tone  of  her  voice  and  her  manner. 
Sally  of  course  was  the  culprit,  and,  as  she  confessed,  had 
written  Jones,  giving  him  full  information.  That  Sally,  as 
usual,  enjoyed  Miss  Beauchamp's  anxiety  about  all  these 
things,  and  was  absolutely  without  mercy  for  her,  goes 
without  saying. 

Sally's  increasing  escapades  and  interference  with  Miss 
Beauchamp's  life  and  peace  of  mind  were  becoming  a  seri- 
ous matter,  and  it  was  absolutely  essential  Sally  should  be 
controlled.  But  it  was  one  thing  to  vote  the  suppression 
of  the  culprit  and  another  to  do  it.  Threats,  scoldings, 
personal  appeals  to  her  loyalty,  and  hypnotism  were  the 
most  effective  measures,  and  each  was  used  in  turn,  but  no 
method  produced  more  than  temporary  results. 

First,  the  secret  of  her  plans  or  past  doings  had  to  be 
discovered.  This  was  no  easy  matter,  though  sometimes 
one  could  extract  from  her  the  details  of  an  intended  esca- 
pade, for,  childlike,  she  was  pretty  sure  to  betray  herself 
by  a  guilty  expression  or  gesture  of  some  kind ;  and  then 
carefully  worded  questions,  or  threats  of  punishment  or 
of  interference,  would  bring  out  the  whole.  Sometimes, 
when  the  circumstances  were  serious,  it  was  necessary  to 
put  her  upon  a  sort  of  hj^pnotic  rack  and  elicit  the  infor- 
mation by  torture,  a  form  of  inquisition   which  perhaps 


could  only  be  justified  by  the  end,  —  Miss  Beauchamp's 
moral  peace.  One  day,  for  instance,  when  asked  whether 
she  had  made  any  more  secret  engagements,  she  admitted 
that  she  had,  but  refused  to  tell  more  because  I  would  stop 
her  fun.  Remonstrances  proved  vain,  so  I  told  her  she 
would  be  compelled  by  other  means  to  submit.  Putting 
my  finger  to  her  forehead,  I  made  her  believe  I  had  the 
power  of  exorcism.  The  effect  was  remarkable.  She 
shrank  from  me  much  as  the  conventional  Mephistopheles 
of  the  stage  shrinks  from  the  cross  on  the  handle  of  the 
sword,  at  the  same  time  complaining  that  it  made  a  "  ter- 
rible "  painful  sensation  run  through  her  body.  This  was 
a  feeling  of  coldness  ^  so  intense  that  from  its  very  painful- 
ness  it  paralyzed  her  will  and  reduced  her  power  of  resist- 
ance. She  feared  it  more  than  anything  that  could  be 
done  to  her.  Still  she  doggedly  persisted  in  refusing  either 
to  reveal  the  secret  of  her  engagement  or  to  promise  to 
break  it.  In  spite  of  the  pain,  slirinking  and  crouching 
upon  her  knees,  she  fought  on  for  a  long  time.  Finally, 
unable  to  endure  it  longer,  she  yielded  and  confessed  the 
details  of  her  intended  escapade.  But  even  then  her  com- 
plaint was  long  that  her  fun  had  been  spoiled,  and  she 
sought  to  make  it  a  condition  of  surrender  that  nothing 
should  be  done  for  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  in  Sally's  vo- 
cabulary was  a  "chump."  Nevertheless  the  rack  had 
brought  confession. 

But  to  control  Sally,  besides  threats  and  scoldings  which 
were  sometimes  effective,  pleading  and  appeals  to  her  in- 
nate kindliness  and  regard  for  others  often  won  her, — 
with  one  exception:  no  request  made  on  behalf  of  Miss 
Beauchamp  had  the  slightest  effect.  On  this  point  she 
was  implacable.      But  what  good  were  her  promises  be- 

1  I  had  often  used  as  a  suggestion  to  suppress  Sally  that  she  "  should  be 
dead."  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  this  feeling  of  coldness  arose  by  asso- 
ciation with  the  idea  of  death,  or  a  corpse.    After  a  time  it  ceased  to  be  felt. 


yond  a  few  days  ?    She  could  not  keep  them,  and  always 
said  so  frankly. 

Here  is  a  letter  from  Sally.  I  give  it  as  a  specimen  of 
her  frivolity  after  a  stem  moral  lecture  : 

"  Know  all  men  by  these  presents  that  I,  Sally,  being  of 
sound  mind  and  in  full  possession  of  all  my  senses,  do  hereby 
most  solemnly  promise  to  love,  honor,  and  obey  Morton  Prince, 
M.  D.,  situate  in  the  city  of  Boston,  state  of  Massachusetts, 
from  this  time  forth,  toujours.    Amen,  amen,  amen. 

"  Toujours  is  French,  you  know." 

Sally  had  been  guilty  of  unusual  offence.  Miss  Beau- 
champ  had  been  put  to  the  mortification  of  learning  that 
in  a  trance  she  had  borrowed  a  large  sum  of  money,  had 
given  forty  dollars  to  a  beggar,  and  then,  to  cap  the  climax, 
had  lost  a  treasured  watch.  The  latter,  as  I  learned,  Sally 
had  pulled  to  pieces,  —  "  It  would  be  such  fun  to  see  if  she 
could  take  the  works  out,"  —  and  then,  finding  she  was  no 
watchmaker,  she  had  hidden  the  pieces. 

Plainly  the  time  had  come  to  apply  the  disagreeable  but 
drastic  measure  of  hypnotism. 

So  Sally  was  condemned.  Here  are  two  specimen  appli- 
cations of  the  punishment :  She  was  rebellious  and  declared 
war.  The  contest  began.  Again  I  reproduced  the  cold 
feeling.  She  fought  to  counteract  my  influence  and  the 
suggestions  by  giving  to  herself  counter-suggestions  mut- 
tered under  her  breath:  "I  won't  be  hypnotized.  I  can 
open  my  eyes.  I  can  speak,"  and  so  on,  opposing  every 
suggestion  of  mine  by  one  of  her  own.  Against  the  cold 
feeling  she  struggled  valiantly.  I  pretended  to  etherize 
her  with  mock  ether.  She  coughed  and  choked  and  sput- 
tered as  if  it  were  real.  "  From  this  time  forth,"  I  com- 
manded, "you  shall  be  dead  to  the  world.  You  shall 
never  again  have  power  to  influence  or  to  molest  Miss 
Beauchamp.     Your  will  power  is  lost.     You  shall  go  back 


to  where  you  came  from,"  etx).,  etc.  I  paralyzed  her 
tongue,  her  limbs,  her  will  power.  But  from  moment  to 
moment  she  would  struggle  and  mutter,  as  well  as  she 
could  with  the  little  control  left  over  her  tongue,  that 
she  would  not  die,  would  not  disappear,  etc.  Finally, 
after  half  an  hour,  she  became  lethargic  and  passive,  and 
the  final  therapeutic  suggestions  both  for  Miss  Beauchamp 
and  hereelf  were  given. 

The  effect  lasted — just  four  days!  During  this  time 
Sally  was  suppressed,  or  as  she  afterwards  used  to  express 
it,  she  had  gone  back  to  where  she  came  from  ;  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  herself,  well  and  happy.  Then  Sally  broke 
loose  again.  My  notes  four  days  later  read :  "  Hypnotized. 
Same  thing  repeated  as  on  Monday ;  same  fight ;  same  re- 
belliousness ;  same  suggestions."  And  so  it  became  appar- 
ent that  the  effect  of  hypnotizing  Sally  was  not  lasting. 

Psychologically  and  therapeutically  it  was  interesting  to 
discover  that  the  effect  of  suggestions  to  Sally  hypnotized 
was  twofold.  First,  such  suggestions  influenced  Sally  her- 
self. She  found  it  difficult  to  influence  her  waking  con- 
sciousness, to  change  Miss  Beauchamp  to  herself,  to  write 
letters,  to  play  pranks.  In  fact,  Sally  was  to  a  large  extent 
"  squeezed "  out  of  existence.  Second,  and  more  inter- 
esting psychologically,  suggestions  to  Sally  influenced  the 
waking  self  the  same  as  if  given  to  B  11.  This  showed  a 
relationship  between  the  two  groups  of  conscious  states 
(personalities)  in  spite  of  their  apparent  disunion.  But  it 
was  not  at  all  clear  what  that  relationship  was.  By  sug- 
gestions to  Sally  in  hypnosis,  neurasthenic  symptoms,  in- 
somnia, and  what  not,  could  be  made  to  disappear  in  tlie 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  just  as  when  given  to  B  II  ;  but  un- 
fortunately, as  an  effect  of  the  anxiety  induced  by  Sally's 
pranks,  they  would  reappear  almost  in  another  twinkling. 

The  following  letter  from  Miss  Beauchamp  expresses  her 
attitude  of  mind  toward  her  trouble  : 


"  Please  forgive  me  for  troubling  you  with  this  note.  You 
need  not  answer  it.  I  write  only  because  I  am  tired  and  dis- 
couraged and  full  of  all  sorts  of  fancies  which  writing  may  dis- 
pel. And  then  too  I  do  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  wish  I  had  told 
you  simply  and  frankly  this  afternoon  just  why  1  wanted  infor- 
mation. It  would  have  been  so  much  easier  for  you  and  there 
was  no  earthly  reason  for  not  telling  you.  Jones  has  been  dis- 
cussing various  matters  lately,  as  j'ou  doubtless  know  from  your 
reference  to  Dr.  G,,  and  among  other  things — perhaps  you 
know  this  too  —  he  told  me  that  just  so  long  as  I  continued  to 
be  in  thought,  word,  and  deed  the  child  ^  that  I  was  ten  years 
ago,  just  so  long  would  it  be  hard  for  him  and  dangerous  for 
myself.  Do  you  understand  better  now?  And  do  you  see 
why  I  want  to  know  everything  that  you  have  patience  to 
tell  me  ?  everything  that  other  people  know.  It  is  all  horribly 
puzzling  .   .  ." 

But  even  if  hypnotizing  Sally  was  only  temporary  in  its 
results  it  would  have  proved  a  powerful  influence  in  treat- 
ing the  case,  had  it  not  been  that  Sally  on  her  part  made  a 
discovery  which  was  worth  two  of  mine.  She  found  that 
though  I  could  hypnotize  her  I  could  not  wake  up  Miss 
Beaucharap  unless  she  (Sally)  chose  to  let  me :  that  is  to 
say,  even  in  hypnosis  Sally  had  sufficient  control  left  to., 
thwart  the  command  that  she  should  change  to  B  I  and__ 
wake  up.  Here  it  may  be  added  that  Sally,  after  waking  as 
herself,  does  not  have  amnesia  for  her  own  hypnotic  state. 
She  remembers  everything  said  and  done  to  her  while 
hypnotized.  She  could  therefore  plan  in  anticipation  of 
the  attack  against  her  in  hypnosis,  and  as  long  as  she 
resisted  she  could  not  be  changed  to  B  I.  At  every  attempt 
to  do  this  Sally  would  wake  from  hypnosis,  and  instead  of 
obtaining  Miss  Beauchamp  I  would  have  Sally,  who  would 
insist  upon  remaining.     Suggestions  that  she  should  like 

*  Apparently  referring  to  her  conduct  as  Sally,  for  which  Miss  B.  got  the 
credit.  The  division  of  personality  was  not  understood  or  recognized  by  her 


Miss  Beauchamp,  and  other  suggestions  intended  to  have  a 
moral  influence,  were  resisted  and  were  without  result.  "  I 
hate  her,"  she  would  answer.  Sally's  good-will  and  co- 
operation became  essential.  This  obtained,  all  was  easy : 
Miss  Beauchamp  would  wake  up  in  good  spirits,  light- 
hearted,  and  physically  without  ailment. 

The  following  scene  is  an  illustration  of  the  pass  to 
which  we  had  come.  It  also  exhibits  the  other  side  of 
Sally's  character,  —  a  soft,  kindly  side,  to  which  one  could 
always  appeal  with  success,  provided  it  was  not  in  behalf 
of  Miss  Beauchamp.  It  was  this  side  tpo  which  was  seen 
when  we  treated  Sally  as  the  personality  she  claimed  to  be, 
—  the  equal  of  her  waking  self. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Miss  Beauchamp  had  lost 
her  Christmas  Day  in  consequence  of  having  changed  to 
Sally.  After  Sally  had  given  me  her  side  of  the  story  I 
told  her  she  must  let  Miss  Beauchamp  wake  up,  but  this 
she  had  no  intention  of  doing.  The  flag  of  rebellion  was 
hoisted  at  once,  and  to  all  my  urging  she  would  only  reply 
in  a  prevaricating  way,  "  I  am  awake."  Finding  arguments 
of  no  avail  I  hypnotized  her  against  her  will,  making  her 
feel,  as  usual,  icy  cold.  She  remonstrated  and  struggled 
with  considerable  vigor  against  this  hypnotic  effect,  re- 
peating, "  I  won't,  I  won't.  I  won't  be  dead,"  etc.,  etc. 
Finding  myself  baffled,  I  made  her  inhale  from  a  mock 
bottle  of  ether,  which  in  the  hypnotic  state  she  smelled; 
she  coughed  and  breathed  as  if  she  were  being  suffocated. 
Nevertheless  every  time  I  suggested  that  B  I  should  wake 
up,  Sally  would  appear  instead.  Her  mental  resistance 
was  so  strong  that  it  was  finally  necessary  to  give  up 
this  method  and  to  take  another  tone.  I  pretended  to 
be  very  much  hurt  by  her  conduct,  and  to  be  discouraged 
and  sorry.  I  drew  a  picture  of  the  result  of  her  behavior, 
—  how  it  had  ruined  the  afternoon.  I  told  her  of  a  very 
ill  patient  whom  I  had  been  unable  to  visit,  and  who  was 


at  the  moment  suffering  and  without  a  physician.  In  fact, 
I  played  the  sympathetic  act,  putting  on  a  sorrowful  ex- 
pression as  one  might  with  a  child  whose  conduct  one 
wished  to  reprove.  Sally  seemed  very  much  affected.  All 
the  joyousness  went  out  of  her  face  and  she  appeared  much 
disturbed  by  the  picture  I  drew  of  the  consequences  of  her 
conduct  and  of  the  trouble  which  she  was  causing  other 
people.  Then  I  told  her  that  if  she  really  were  sorry,  as 
she  professed,  she  could  make  amends  by  letting  B  I  wake 
up.  But  afc  this  suggestion  her  manner  changed  in  an  in- 
stant to  resentment.  Finally,  as  a  compromise  she  said 
that  if  I  would  promise  never  again  to  let  Miss  Beauchamp 
come  to  see  me,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  her,  she 
would  let  her  be  waked  up.  Her  jealousy  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  easily  detected,  revealing  itself  as  the  secret  of 
her  uncompromising  persistency  in  annoying  her.  She  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  as  usual  that  she  hated  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  giving  in  explanation  the  usual  answers ;  that  Miss 
B.  was  always  interested  in  books  and  stupid  things  of  that 
kind,  was  foolish,  did  foolish  things,  and  so  on.  The  mo- 
tive of  jealousy  was  plain.  Of  coui*se  this  offer  of  Sally's 
was  refused.  An  hour  had  already  been  consumed  in 
fruitless  effort,  but  it  was  not  until  after  another  hour  of 
moral  urging  in  which  the  evil  of  her  ways  was  still  further 
emphasized  that  she  was  ready  to  make  the  concession. 
The  picture  of  the  trouble  and  unhappiness  she  caused 
other  people,  which  I  drew  for  her  with  a  melodramatic 
hand,  induced  in  her  a  real  regret,  and  a  real  sorrow.  But 
when  it  came  to  the  question  of  Miss  Beauchamp  she  was 
still  implacable.  It  was  only  out  of  consideration  for  others 
that  she  finally  acquiesced.  Then  her  promise  was  given 
that  every  time  Miss  Beauchamp  went  into  a  trance  she 
(Sally)  would  immediately,  on  the  moment,  wake  her  up ; 
and  that  she  would  do  this  for  the  next  month. 

Sally  pleaded  that  slie  had  "just  as  much  right  to  live" 


as  had  Miss  Beauchamp ;  that  she  "  enjoyed  life  just  as 
much  "  as  her  other  self,  and  complained  bitterl}'^  of  the  dull 
time  she  had  when  she  could  not  get  out  of  her  shell. 
Almost  piteously  she  pleaded,  "  Why  can't  I  live  as  well 
as  she  ?  I  have  got.just  as  much  right  to  live  as  she  has." 
To  her  it  was  a  question  which  should  die  and  which 
should  live.  She  never  could  be  made  to  recognize  the 
identity  of  the  two  personalities. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  Miss  Beauchamp  was  always 
ill  or  in  dire  distress.  The  events  and  scenes  I  have  de- 
scribed were  episodes  in  a  life  that  was  like  a  river  which 
sometimes  runs  smoothly  and  sometimes  is  troubled  by 
rapids  and  whirlpools.  Unless  Sally  was  particularly  ag- 
gressive, Miss  Beauchamp  could  always  count  upon  three 
or  four  days,  and  occasionally  upon  a  week  of  peace  of 
mind  and  good  physical  health,  after  receiving  therapeutic 
suggestions.  Then  there  would  be  three  or  four  days  of 
annoying  interference  from  Sally,  to  be  put  an  end  to  in 
turn  by  therapeutic  suggestion.  To  see  Miss  Beauchamp 
enter  the  consulting  room  weary,  worn,  depressed,  hope- 
lessness written  upon  her  face  and  expressed  in  every  tone 
of  her  voice,  and  then  to  see  her  depart  with  a  light  step, 
every  trace  of  weariness  gone,  and  the  vigor  of  hope  in  her 
heart,  —  well,  to  see  her  go  away  so  tiunsf ormed  by  a  few 
therapeutic  suggestions  amply  repaid  all  the  care  and  time 
this  strange  case  exacted. 



■T"TTHAT  is  Sally  ?     What  sort  of  a  consciousness  is  this 
VV    personality?    And  what  relationship  exists  between 
her  consciousness  and  the  waking  B  I  ? 

An  answer  to  this  problem  cannot  be  given  until  many 
more  facts  in  the  psychology  of  this  complex  case  are 
studied.  On  the  basis,  however,  of  the  facts  thus  far 
adduced  we  are  warranted  in  definitely  drawing  certain 
conclusions : 

In  the  first  place,  Sally  is  a  distinct  personality  in  the 
sense  of  having  a  character,  trains  of  thought,  memories, 
perceptions,  acquisitions,  and  mental  acquirements,  differ- 
ent from  those  of  B  I. 

Secondly :  She  is  an  alternating  personality  in  that  dur- 
ing the  times  when  the  primary  self  has  vanished  Sally  is 
for  the  time  being  the  whole  conscious  personality,  having 
taken  the  place  of  the  other.  As  an  alternating  peraon- 
ality  so  much  of  the  whole  field  of  consciousness  as 
persists  belongs  to  her  and  there  is  no  other  self.  At 
such  times  B  I  does  not  become  a  subconsciousness  to 
Sally  but  as  a  pei-sonality  is  wiped  out. 

Thirdly:  Sally  does  not  simply  alternate  with  B  I. 
There  are  times  when  Sally  manifests  herself  as  a  concomi- 
tant extra-consciousness,  concomitant  with  the  primary 
personality,  B  I  and  also  B  II.  A  greater  or  less  number 
of  the  groups  of  conscious  states  which  make  up  her  per- 
sonality, her  perceptions,  her  thoughts,  and  her  will, 
coexist  with   those  of   B  I.     In  other  words,  there  is  a 


doubling  of  the  personality.  It  is  convenient  to  speak  of 
this  second  group,  whether  large  or  small,  as  Sally, 
whether  it  is  the  whole  of  Sally  or  not.  Sally  may  there- 
fore be  termed  a  co-consciousness^  or  a  subconsciousness. 

The  evidence  for  coexistence  is  found  in  the  many 
manifestations  already  recited  of  another  consciousness 
while  Miss  Beauchamp  has  been  present.  The  phenomena 
of  automatic  movements,  aboulia,  obsessions,  imperative 
impulses,  and  the  conflict  between  the  two  wills,  may  be 
particularly  mentioned.  Even  more  conclusive  are  the 
phenomena  of  "automatic  writing"  and  speech  which 
were  later  frequently  observed.  Proofs  of  this  doubling 
of  consciousness  will  be  found  running  through  this  study. 

A  curious  fact,  dithcult  to  interpret  satisfactorily  ex- 
cepting on  the  theory  of  the  persistence  of  "  Sally  "  as  a 
subconscious  self,  is  that  on  several  occasions  when  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  delirious  the  evidence  indicated  the  co- 
incident presence  of  Sally  as  a  perfectly  sane  subcon- 

Fourthly :  It  does  not  follow  that  the  extent  of  Sally's 
mind  as  a  subconscious  self  is  coextensive  with  her  mind 
as  an  alternating  self. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  problems,  and  one  which  has 
an  important  bearing  upon  that  of  the  limits  of  subcon- 
scious life,  is  whether  or  not  Sally,  when  not  present  as  an 
alternating  self,  is  always  in  existence  as  a  subconscious 
self.  Sally  maintains  that  she  is;  that  (subconsciously) 
she  knows  everything  Miss  Beauchamp  (and  B  II)  does  at 
the  time  she  does  it,  —  knows  what  she  thinks,  hears  what 
she  says,  reads  what  she  writes,  and  sees  what  she  does ; 
that  she  knows  all  this  as  a  separate  co-self,  and  that  her 
knowledge  does  not  come  to  her  afterwards,  when  an  alter- 
nating self,  in  the  form  of  memory.  We  shall  soon  see 
that  the  same  claim  is  made  for  a  pei-sistent  existence  dur- 
ing the  presence  of  B  IV. 



This  is  a  very  broad  claim  for  subconscious  life,  even 
when  pathological.  It  is  not,  however,  very  much  more 
extreme  than  the  interpretation  which  is  connoted  by  the 
published  description  of  some  reported  cases.^ 

If  we  confine  ourselves  in  the  case  of  Sally  to  the  sub- 
conscious phenomena  which  are  open  to  objective  investi- 
gation and  have  been  actually  observed,  we  shall  find  that 
they  are  subject  to  two  interpretations,  namely : 

(A.)  Sally  may  subconsciously  come  to  life  only  at  the 
moment  when  the  automatic  phenomena  are  manifested. 
After  the  cessation  of  the  automatism  the  subconscious  self 
may  subside  as  any  idea  or  feeling  may  subside.  In  tliis 
case  the  sub-self  would  have  only  a  series  of  spasmodic 
existences,  each  of  which  would  be  of  only  relatively  mo- 
mentary duration.  Her  knowledge  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
life  would  be  acquired  almost  entirely  through  memory 
when  she  becomes  an  alternating  self ;  just  as  a  hypnotic 
self  reraembei'S  the  waking  state.  Sally's  belief  (the  sin- 
cerity of  which  is  beyond  question)  in  her  own  continuous 
existence  must,  under  this  interpretation,  be  an  illusion  of 

(B.)  Sally,  or  some  of  her  mental  processes,  may  have  a 
continuQjis  existence  during  the  whole  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
(and  B  IV's)  life,  or  during  certain  periods,  for  example, 
during  a  period  of  delirium.  In  this  case  the  automatic 
manifestations  would  be  merely  ebullitions  in  the  mental 
life  of  a  persistent  subconscious  self.  A  subconsciousness 
of  this  extent  would,  however,  not  necessarily  be  more 
than  an  exaggeration  of  that  which  is  shown  by  the  sub- 
conscious solution  of  arithmetical  problems. 

Besides  the  objective  evidence,  the  introspective  testi- 
mony of  Sally  ought  to  be  at  least  weighed. 

A  consideration  of  these  two  interpretations  will  be  post- 
poned until  we  have  all  the  data  of  the  case  before  us.     It 

1  Compare  Janet's  account  of  Mme.  B. ;  Rev.  Fhilosoph.,  March,  1888. 


should,  however,  be  insisted  upon  that  the  first,  the  more 
conservative  of  the  two,  should  be  held  until  it  can  be  shown 
to  be  inadequate.  "We  should  be  on  our  guard  against 
hastily  ascribing  to  subconscious  activity  and  doubling  of 
consciousness  phenomena  which  may  quite  as  well  be 
explained  as  alternations  of  mental  states.  Much  of  the 
automatic  activity,  like  writing,  speaking,  etc.,  which  in  well 
known  reported  cases  has  been  inteipreted  as  subconscious 
phenomena,  has  been,  in  my  judgment,  in  large  part  at  least, 
merely  exhibitions  of  alternations  of  consciousness.  The 
subject  goes  into  a  dreamy  state  in  which  little  or  nothing  is 
left  of  the  primary  consciousness,  while  a  newly  organized 
self  comes  to  the  front  and  gives  the  exhibition.  Some  of 
the  automatic  action  exhibited  by  Miss  Beauchamp  was  of 
this  character.  In  such  instances  Sally,  though  apparently 
acting  subconsciously,  was  practically  an  alternating  self. 
The  internal  as  well  as  the  external  evidence  must  often  be 
weighed  in  determining  the  reality  of  co-conscious  activity. 

If  the  phraseology  of  the  text  appears  to  definitely  postu- 
late a  continuous  subconscious  self,  I  would  have  it  borne  in 
mind  that  for  the  present  we  are  mainly  concerned  with  the 
description  of  the  phenomena,  rather  than  their  interpreta- 
tion. Whatever  interpretation  we  shall  be  obliged  finally 
to  adopt,  both  B  I  and  B  IV  were  compelled  by  the  exigen- 
cies of  their  "  possession  "  to  conduct  themselves  as  if  their 
"  demon  "  were  always  "  inside,"  a  spectator  of  their  lives. 

There  are  certain  other  peculiarities  of  Sally  wliich  ought 
to  be  stated  now : 

Sally  has  a  peculiar  form  of  anesthesia.  With  her  eyes 
closed  she  can  feel  nothing.  The  tactile,  pain,  thermic, 
and  muscular  senses  are  involved.  You  may  stroke,  prick, 
or  burn  any  part  of  her  skin  and  she  does  not  feel  it.  You 
may  place  a  limb  in  any  posture  without  her  being  able  to 
recognize  the  position  which  lias  been  assumed.  But  let 
her  open  her  eyes  and  look  at  what  you  are  doing,  let  her 


join  the  visual  sense  with  the  tactile  or  other  senses,  and 
the  lost  sensations  at  once  return.  The  association  of 
visual  perceptions  with  these  sensations  brings  the  latter 
into  the  field  of  her  personal  consciousness.  The  same 
thing  is  true  of  auditory  perceptions.  If  Sally  hears  a 
sound  associated  with  an  object,  she  can  feel  the  object. 
For  instance,  place  a  bunch  of  keys  in  her  hand  and  she 
does  not  know  what  she  holds.  Now  jingle  the  keys  and 
she  can  at  once  feel  them,  as  is  shown  by  her  being  able 
to  recognize  the  different  parts  of  their  forms. 

jSensation  may  also  be  restored  hy  suggestion.  But  the 
restoration  is  only  temporary,  lasting  for  a  few  hours  or 
for  the  day.  I  used  frequently  to  restore  sensation  in  this 
way  for  Sally.  Seeing  how  easily  it  was  done,  Sally  took 
the  tip  and  every  morning,  when  at  the  height  of  her 
career,  used  to  make  the  suggestions  to  herself,  using  my 
language.  She  would  thus  secure  to  herself  the  advantage 
of  sensory  perceptions.  It  was  possible  to  suggest,  to  a 
limited  extent  at  least,  painful  sensations,  that  is,  the 
feeling  of  intense,  painful  coldness.  This  was  utilized  in 
controlling  her.  No  experiments  were  made  in  producing 
other  forms  of  pain. 

Curiously,  Sally  does  not  have,  as  we  should  expect, 
limitation  of  the  field  of  vision  unless  she  is  "  squeezed  " ; 
then  there  is  moderate  limitation.  Nor  is  there  impair- 
ment of  the  special  senses. 

This  peculiar  anesthesia  is  not  as  bizarre  as  may  appear 
at  fii-st  sight,  although  I  do  not  happen  to  have  run  across 
any  references  to  it  in  the  literature  showing  that  it  has 
been  previously  observed.  Yet  it  is  analogous  to  a  form 
of  hysterical  blindness  when  monocular.  Such  a  subject, 
as  pointed  out  and  proved  by  Parinaud,  Pitres,  Charcot, 
and  other  French  observers,  as  well  as  by  myself,^  cannot 

^  Hysterical  Monocular  Amblyopia.  Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sciences,  February, 


see  with  the  blind  eye,  if  the  other  is  closed.  But  as 
soon  as  the  opposite  eye  is  opened,  sight  returns  at  once 
to  the  affected  eye,  that  is,  as  soon  as  the  images  of  the 
affected  eye  are  associated  with  those  of  the  sound  eye. 
(The  recognition  of  this  peculiarity  of  the  amblyopia  of 
some  hysterics  is  important,  as  such  subjects  are  often 
charged  with  malingering.)  Another  analogous  phenom- 
enon is  what  is  known  as  Lasegue's  Symptom.  A  hysteric 
who  with  eyes  closed  has  muscular  weakness  (or  paresis) 
of  a  degree  which  will  prevent  him  from  recording  more 
than  a  few  degrees  on  the  dynamometer,  will,  if  his  eyes 
are  open  (and  he  has  visual  perception  of  his  hand),  have 
an  increase  of  power  of  grasp  that  will  record  80°  or  90°. 
The  association  of  the  visual  images  has  the  effect  of 
restoring  to  the  personal  consciousness  the  kinesthetic 
images  necessary  for  muscular  movements.  ^ 

The  explanabion  of  such  phenomena  at  present  is  diffi- 
cult, if  not  impossible.  It  is  undoubtedly  to  be  found  in 
the  reintegration  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  but  I  am 
inclined  to  the  view  that  the  data  at  hand  point  to  an 
integration  along  physiological  lines,  —  that  is,  the  neuron 
systems,  rather  than  along  the  lines  of  association  of 

Sally's  anesthesia  extends  to  the  somatic  feelings.  She 
is  never  hungry  or  thirsty.  If  she  eats  she  does  so  as  a 
matter  of  form  or  social  requirement.  There  is  also  an 
entire  absence  of  bodily  discomforts.  This  anesthesia 
probably  explains  in  large  part  Sally's  freedom  from  ill 
health.  She  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  fatigue,  of 
pain,  of  ill  health.  She  always  is  well.  It  is  probabl}', 
in  part  at  least,  in  consequence  of  this  anesthesia  that 
Sally  does  not  share  the  pain  or  other  physical  ailments  of 
Miss  Beauchamp,  or  any  of  the  personalities.  Let  Miss 
Beauchamp  be  suffering  from  abdominal  pain,  or  headache, 
or  physical  exhaustion,  and  let  her  change  to  Sally  and  at 


once  all  these  symptoms  disappear.  Sally  knows  of  the 
symptoms  of  the  other  personalities  only  through  their 
thoughts  or  their  actions.  She  does  not  feel  the  symptoms 
themselves.  The  same  is  true  of  the  sense  of  muscular 
fatigue.  Sally  can  walk  miles  without  being  conscious 
of  the  physiological  effect.  Curiously  enough,  however, 
Miss  Beauchamp  may  afterwards  suffer  from  the  fatigue 
effects  of  Sally's  exertions. 

What  is  true  of  Sally  in  these  respects  as  an  alternating 
personality  is  also  true  of  her  as  a  subconsciousness. 
Subconsciously/,  Sally  is  always  anesthetic.  If  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  eyes  are  closed  and  any  portion  of  the  skin  is 
touched  or  pricked,  or  if  a  limb  is  placed  in  any  posture, 
subconscious  Sally  is  unconscious  of  the  tactile  pain  or 
muscular  sensations,  although  the  other  personalities  are 
not  anesthetic,  but  perceive  each  sensation  perfectly. 

It  was  found  possible  to  take  advantage  of  this  fact  and 
by  pressure  upon  certain  so-called  hypnogenetic  points 
on  B  I,  B  II,  or  B  III,  to  produce  suggestive  effects  in 
one  of  the  other  personalities  or  hypnotic  states  without 
Sally's  being  able  to  discover  the  procedure  employed. 
In  one  epoch  of  this  study  I  was  in  this  way  able  to 
produce  therapeutic  results  without  Sally's  being  able, 
because  of  her  ignorance,  to  thwart  my  efforts  as  she  was 
desirous  of  doing. 

Sally's  knowledge  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts  shows 
certain  curious  paradoxical  peculiarities.  Although  she 
knows  Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts  at  any  given  moment 
she  has  not  Miss  Beattchamp' s  culture.  This  is  true 
whether  Sally  is  a  subconsciousness  or  an  alternating  per- 
sonality. She  does  not  know  French  or  other  foreign 
languages,  nor  can  she  write  shorthand.  In  brief,  she 
has  little  of  the  Primary  Self's  education,  but  she  reads, 
writes,  and  speaks  English  well.  Some  unusual  words, 
like  "psychology,"  bother  her,  and  sometimes  she  insists, 


in  a  childlike  way,  upon  the  prerogative  of  coining  words 
of  her  own. 

Here,  again,  it  was  found  possible  to  take  advantage  of 
this  curious  ignorance  of  the  subconscious  Sally,  to  com- 
municate with  Miss  Beauchamp  without  betraying  what 
was  said  to  Sally.  By  conversing  in  French  with  Miss 
Beauchamp  it  was  possible  to  communicate  information 
which  it  was  desirable  that  Sally  should  not  have.  This 
often  brought  retaliation  from  the  latter.  Also  Miss 
Beauchamp,  to  conceal  her  thoughts  from  her  other  self, 
has  been  in  the  habit  of  writing  her  diary  in  shorthand. 

It  is  not  easy  to  give  a  psychological  explanation  of  this 
difference  in  the  conscious  assimilation  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  intellectual  processes  by  this  secondary  conscious- 
ness, according  as  to  whether  those  processes  are  made  up 
of  thoughts  of  the  moment  or  of  memories  of  what  passes 
under  the  head  of  learned  acquisitions.  It  would  seem 
that  it  is  the  memory  of  those  intellectual  processes  which 
were  formed  by  laborious  attention  and  repetition  which 
are  not  synthesized  with  Sally's  consciousness,  —  in  other 
words,  the  memory  of  certain  educational  mental  processes. 
Yet  Sally  can  write  and  has  an  elementary  education. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  memory  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  past 
experiences,  which  might  be  in  a  general  way  classified  as 
social,  or  the  experiences  of  conduct,  are  all  synthesized 
with  Sally's  mind.  Sally's  memory  for  these  experiences 
is  probably  better  than  that  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  Can 
these  peculiarities  depend  upon  the  fact  that  the  subcon- 
scious Sally  pays  little  or  no  attention  to  matters  which 
occupy  Miss  Beauchamp's  mind  as  objects  of  study  ?  Can 
it  be  possible  that  Sally  had  really  become  well  differen- 
tiated as  a  secondary  consciousness  at  the  time  when  Miss 
Beauchamp  pursued  her  school  and  college  education,  and 
was  able  by  voluntary  effort  to  neglect  those  thoughts  which 
were  occupied  with  study  ?    If  Sally's  autobiography  can  be 


accepted  as  evidence,  there  is  something  to  be  said  in  favor 
of  such  a  hypothesis.  Sally  herself  has  rather  strongly 
intimated  it  and  there  was  some  evidence  of  it  to  be  found 
in  the  experiences  of  Miss  Beauchamp  and  Sally  when  the 
former  was  studying  shorthand  during  the  period  of  this 
study.  Yet  I  think  there  is  a  profounder  reason  to  be 
found  in  an  intellectual  limitation  of  the  capacity  for  syn- 
thesis. If  Sally  is  directed  to  concentrate  her  mind  on  a 
mathematical  problem,  or  other  similar  subject,  Sally  tends 
to  change  to  Miss  Beauchamp.  That  is  to  say,  by  syn- 
thesizing Miss  Beauchamp's  knowledge  with  that  of  Sally, 
the  latter  disappears,  and  the  main  personality  becomes 

Of  course  it  is  manifest  that  one  of  the  most  marked 
peculiarities  of  Sally's  personality  is  its  childlike  imma- 
turity. Sally  is  a  child.  This  suggested  the  idea  that 
Sally  might  be  a  reversion  to  an  early  period  of  Miss 
Beauchamp's  life.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  in  hyp- 
notic experiments  certain  states  may  be  artificially  pro- 
duced in  which  the  subject  is  found  to  have  reverted  to  a 

particular  period  of  his  life.     A  subject  named  M , 

for  instance,  studied  by  Dr.  Sidis,  Dr.  Linenthal,  and  my- 
self, was  made  to  revert  to  a  period  in  his  life  when  he 
was  sixteen  years  of  age.  He  then  spontaneously,  unin- 
fluenced by  suggestion,  lost  his  knowledge  of  the  English 
language  and  spoke  his  own  native  dialect,  Russo-German, 
which  he  spoke  when  a  boy.  The  same  phenomenon  has 
been  observed  in  multiple  personality.  The  classical  case 
of  Louis  Viv^  in  several  of  his  personalities^  reverted  to 
corresponding  epochs  in  his  life,  and  in  each  personality  he 
was  afflicted  with  the  same  paralytic  infirmity  with  which 
he  was  afflicted  at  the  time:  in  one  case  hemiplegia,  in 
another,  paraplegia,  etc.  A  moment's  consideration,  how- 
ever, will  disprove  such  a  theory  if  applied  to  Sally.  In  the 
first  place  her  memory  is  not  limited  to  any  particular  epoch, 


but  she  has  a  continuous  memory  of  her  whole  life.  Such 
necessarily  could  not  be  the  case  in  the  reversion  type  of 
personality.  In  the  second  place,  as  an  alternating  person- 
ality she  remembers  numerous  previously  subconscious 
states,  showing  a  distinctly  different  type  of  dissociation. 

With  this  brief  description  of  Sally's  personality  it  would 
seem  advisable  to  dismiss  further  discussion  of  her  psy- 
chology until  we  come  to  discuss  the  theory  of  the  case 
as  a  whole,  and  the  theory  of  the  secondary  consciousness. 
It  may  be  said  simply  in  the  way  of  summary  that  Sally  is 
a  dissociated  group  of  conscious  states.  These  are  probably 
entirely  pathological  and  have  no  analogy  in  normal  life. 
I  am  unable  to  see  that,  unlike  some  other  subconscious 
states  shown  to  exist  in  this  case,  Sally,  as  a  subconscious- 
ness fulfils  any  useful  function  in  the  mental  economy. 

Sally  claims  never  to  sleep,  but  it  is  very  likely  that 
this  is  an  illusion  on  her  part.  She  claims  to  know  the 
dreams  of  Miss  Beauchamp  to  the  minutest  detail,  includ- 
ing those  dreams  which  are  not  remembered  on  waking, 
and  the  external  agencies,  such  as  sounds  in  the  street, 
which  give  rise  to  them.  By  comparing  Sally's  statements 
with  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp  it  is  possible  to  verify 
Sally's  claim  in  regard  to  the  dreams  which  Miss  Beau- 
champ remembers,  but,  of  course,  these  dreams  Sally  would 
be  expected  to  know,  whether  she  slept  or  not.  More 
interesting  is  the  fact  that  this  subconscious  personality 
insists  that  there  are  many  other  dreams  which  Miss  Beau- 
champ does  not  remember  on  waking,  and  which  she, 
Sally,  claims  to  be  conscious  of  and  remember.  These 
dreams  are  more  extensive  than  those  that  are  remembered. 
It  has  not  been  found  possible  to  verify  this  testimony 
which  must  be  judged  on  its  intrinsic  evidence. 

Most  curious  is  Sally's  absolute  ignorance  of  time.  She 
cannot  compute  it.  A  day,  a  week,  a  month  are  almost 
the  same  to  her.     Things  happened  "  a  short  time  ago, " 



or  "a  long  time  ago,"  in  her  calendar.  But  even  these 
expressions  do  not  connote  the  same  ideas  to  her  as  to  the 
rest  of  us.  One  year  is  the  same  as  ten  years ;  ten  seconds 
as  ten  minutes.  Ask  her  to  guess  a  minute,  and  she  is  as 
likely  to  call  time  at  the  end  of  ten  seconds  as  five  minutes. 
It  would  seem  as  if  this  absolute  inability  to  measure  time 
might,  if  experimentally  studied,  throw  some  light  on  our 
psychological  time  perceptions.  It  would  seem  as  if  time 
could  not  be  entirely  measured  by  the  memory  of  the 
succession  of  events,  for  Sally  experiences  events  as  well 
as  any  one  else.     She  does  not  know  her  own  age. 

Can  there  be  a  time  sense  ?  If  not,  what  prevents  Sally 
from  estimating  time? 

Sally  is  also  suggestible.  It  is  possible  to  hypnotize 
her,  although  she  has  no  amnesia  on  awaking,  and  to  pro- 
duce various  phenomena  of  suggestion ;  to  produce  closure 
of  the  lids,  to  make  her  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb.  Further, 
through  suggestions  to  this  self,  it  is  possible  to  affect 
the  waking  self;  to  produce  sleep,  relieve  uncomfortable 
symptoms,  etc. 

One  of  the  most  diflScult  and  at  the  same  time  interest- 
ing problems  offered  by  Sally  is  the  extent  of  her  mind  as 
a  subconsciousness.  When  Sally  disappears  as  an  alter- 
nating personality  and  becomes  subconscious,  does  her 
mind  in  the  transformation  lose  something  of  its  faculties 
and  dwindle  in  the  range  of  its  mental  processes?  This 
would  mean  conversely  that,  when  Sally  emerges  from  her 
subconscious  position  and  becomes  an  alternating  person- 
ality, by  the  very  process  she  robs  the  primary  conscious- 
ness of  a  part  of  its  mind,  and  to  that  extent  acquires  a 
wider  field  of  consciousness  herself. 

This  question  is  difficult  to  answer  in  its  entirety,  as, 
for  reasons  which  will  be  explained  when  we  inquire  into 
the  problem  of  the  subconscious,  ^  it  is  not  open  to  experi- 

1  Vol.  U. 


mental  methods  of  investigation.     We  have  to  rely  chiefly 
upon  the  evidence  derived  from  the  spontaneous  phenom- 
ena, such  as  will  be  described  in  the  further  course  of  this 
study.     I  will  here  merely  point  out  that  there  is  evidence 
of  the  curtailment,  in  one  respect,  at  least,  of  Sally's  mind 
as   a   subconsciousness,   namely:    Sally  does  not  possess, 
save  under  exceptional  conditions,  the  kinesthetic  images 
of  muscular   movements.     This   is   only   another  way  of 
saying  that  Sally  does  not  possess  the  use   of  the   limbs 
and  body  nor  the  faculty  of  speech.     The  primary  con- 
sciousness alone  has  control  of  the  motor  centres  of  the 
brain.     It  is  only  under  exceptional   conditions  or  when 
Sally  becomes  an  alternating  personality  that  these  centres 
become  associated  with  her  consciousness.     It  is  possible, 
therefore,  if  not  probable,  that  there  is  some  curtailment  of 
subconscious  Sally's  mind  in  other  directions.     Evidence 
of  this  is  seen  when  Sally  becomes  "squeezed."     Then  she 
constantly  complains  that  she  is  limited  in  the  freedom  of 
her  actions.     This  is  shown  by  the  difficulty  that  she  has 
at  such  times  in  writing,  either  as  a  subconsciousness,  or 
as  an  alternating  personality.     Her  writing  loses  its  free- 
dom, it  becomes  crabbed,  cramped,  and,  it  may  be,  illeg- 
ible, until,  if  the  "  squeezing "  process  is  carried  further, 
she  is  obliged   to   resort  to  printing    (Appendix   Q.)    to 
express  her  thoughts,  and  may  not  be  able   to  do   even 
that.     At  such  times,  as  an  alternating  self,  she  has  been 
known  to  be  reduced  to  cutting  printed  words  and  letters 
from  the  newspapers,   and   by  pasting  them  together  to 
transmit  her  messages.     And  yet  the  content  of  the  vari- 
ous subconscious  phenomena  which  have  been  frequently 
manifested  by  Sally  indicates  a  large  field  of  conscious 
thought.     We  shall  be  in  a  better  position  to  consider  the 
range  of  the  subconsciousness  after  the  study  of  the  phe- 
nomena is  completed. 




ONE  day  in  April  Miss  Beauchamp  reported  the  mys- 
terious disappearance  of  some  money.  In  the  early 
days  of  her  trials  I  had  on  several  occasions  discovered  for 
her  the  whereabouts  of  lost  ^  articles,  either  by  hypnotizing 
her  and  questioning  B  II  and  Sally,  or  by  producing  a 
"  cr}'^stal "  vision.  Miss  Beauchamp  now  applied  for  aid 
in  recovering  her  money.  She  was  sorely  worried.  To  be 
constantly  plagued  by  Sally  as  she  had  been  was  bad 
enough,  but  to  begin  now  losing  money  was  a  matter 
of  anxiety.  It  goes  without  saying  that  whenever  any- 
thing went  wrong  suspicion  always  at  once  fell  on  the  sub- 
conscious "  devil,"  but  in  this  case  we  did  her  satanic 
ladyship  a  gross  injustice. 

On  hypnotizing  Miss  Beauchamp  she  became,  not  Sally, 
as  had  been  the  case  of  late,  but  B  II,  who  had  not  been 
seen  for  a  long  time.  Presently  the  old  struggle  of  the 
hands  began.  In  spite  of  B  IPs  resistance,  the  hands  at- 
tempted to  rub  her  eyes  as  they  used  to  do  before  Sally's 
advent  as  a  personality.  Suspecting  that  Sally  was  at 
work,  I  held  the  hands,  being  obliged  to  use  considerable 
force,  and  gave  commands  that  the  hypnotic  B  II  should 
keep  her  hands  still,  etc.  In  reply  to  this  B  II  kept  re- 
peating that  she  could  n't  help  it,  that  she  did  not  know 
what  she  was  doing,  that  she  wanted  to  rub  her  eyes, 
etc.,  etc. 

1  That  ifl,  when  absentmindedly  mislaid,  or  when  taken  by  Sally. 


The  battle  between  B  II  and  the  hands,  as  I  watched  it, 
gave  the  impression  of  severance  of  control  on  the  part  of 
the  former,  who  did  not  seem  to  be  clearly  conscious  of 
what  she  was  doing.  It  was  as  if  some  invisible  stranger 
had  hold  of  her  arms  and  was  trying  to  wrest  them  from 
my  grasp  and  to  use  them  regardless  of  the  owner,  who  also 
endeavored  to  keep  control  and  to  prevent  their  being  used. 
This  struggle  went  on  for  some  ten  minutes :  at  one  time  B 
II  would  obtain  control  and  the  hands  would  become  quiet ; 
then  the  invisible  stranger  would  return  to  the  attack  and 
the  struggle  would  be  renewed ;  then  the  hands  would  gain 
the  ascendency  and  I  would  be  obliged  to  come  to  B  IPs 
assistance  and  hold  them  by  main  force.  Finally,  I  let  go 
to  see  what  would  happen.  Immediately  the  hands  began 
to  rub  her  eyes,  and  then,  as  I  suspected  would  be  the 
case,  her  eyes  almost  immediately  opened  and  Sally  ap- 
peared laughing. 

The  battle  was  only  another  of  many  instances  of  the 
second  consciousness  acting  coincidently  with  the  first ;  the 
two  consciousnesses  willing,  acting,  and  thinking  along  sep- 
arate and  opposed  lines  at  one  and  the  same  time.  An 
automatic  phenomenon  of  this  kind  requires  to  be  seen  to 
be  appreciated.  Several  instances  of  automatisms  actu- 
ally observed  have  already  been  given  in  a  preceding  chap- 
ter. They  were  very  common  and  were  not  confined  to 
movements  of  the  limbs.  Over  and  over  again  I  have 
witnessed  such  things  as  this  :  While  impressing  on  B  I  or 
B  II  that  she  was  or  was  not  to  do  something  contrary  to 
what  was  known  to  be  Sally's  wish,  suddenly  out  of  the 
depths,  so  to  speak,  would  come  like  an  explosion  a  deep, 
"  I  won't,"  or  "  I  will."  The  voice  would  be  changed  in 
tone  to  a  bass  note  and  be  accompanied  by  a  momentary 
expression  on  her  face,  not  easy  to  describe  or  pleasant 
to  look  upon.  The  voice  was  Jacob's  voice,  but  the  hands 
were  the  hands  of  Esau.     After  this  Miss  Beauchamp,  all 


oblivious^  of  the  incident,  would  speak  naturally,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  Or  the  automatism  would  take  a 
sensory  form,  that  of  an  auditory  illusion.  The  plain 
words  of  my  command  would  be  perverted  and  be  heard 
by  Miss  Beauchamp  as  illusory  words  having  the  contrary 
meaning.  Thus  Miss  Beauchamp  would  understand  me  to 
say  the  opposite  of  what  I  really  said.  This  could  be 
brought  out  by  having  Miss  Beauchamp  repeat  what  she 
believed  had  been  said  to  her. 

One  of  the  most  curious  of  these  automatisms  was  the 
flashing  of  Sally's  facial  expression  —  revealing  her  pres- 
ence and  amusement  —  through  Miss  Beauchamp's  sadness. 
This  is  the  way  it  would  happen  :  I  would  be  talking  with 
Miss  Beauchamp  when  she  was  in  a  state  of  depression, 
her  face  weary  and  sad.  Suddenly  the  gleeful  expression 
of  Sally  would  fliish  over  it  momentarily,  as  if  Sally's  joy 
at  the  scene  was  too  intense  to  be  hidden.  These  were 
some  of  the  ways  by  which  Sally  would  seek  to  circumvent 
every  attempt  at  control,  and  sometimes,  to  my  chagrin, 
she  succeeded. 

To  return  to  the  incident  just  described :  Pretending 
ignorance  of  the  reason  for  B  II's  rubbing  her  eyes,  I 
asked  Sally  if  she  knew  why  B  II  had  done  it,  thus  assum- 
ing that  it  had  been  B  II.  Sally  immediately  replied,  "  I 
did  it." 

I  questioned  her  statement,  as  was  my  habit  in  order  to 
draw  her  out,  denied  her  power,  and  demanded  that  she 
explain  how  she  could  do  it  when  she  was  not  present. 

Her  reply  was,  "  I  am  always  present.  I  can  make  her 
do  things  :  I  have  told  you  that  over  and  over  again,  lots 
of  times.     I  wanted  to  get  her  eyes  open.     If  her  eyes 

1  The  primary  consciousness,  it  will  be  noted,  was  unconscious  of  having 
spoken :  the  phenomenon  thus  differs  from  that  other  type  of  automatic 
speech  already  described  (telling  lies),  where  the'subject  knows  what  is  said. 
The  difference  depends  on  the  extent  of  dissociation  of  consciousness. 


were  open  she  would  not  be  here ;  I  should  be  here.  You 
told  her  I  should  not  come  any  more,  and  I  wanted  to 
come."     (Laughs.)^ 

The  search  for  the  lost  money  led  to  a  h3rpnotic  vision,! 
according  to  which  the  money  had  dropped,  unnoticed  by 
Miss  Beauchamp,  out  of  a  book  which  she  was  reading. 
The  money  had  fallen  upon  the  window-sill,  and  had  been 
blown  out  by  a  draught  upon  the  deep  ledge  of  the  coping 
outside  the  window  in  the  mansard  roof.  There  was  no 
opportunity  to  verify  the  vision ;  in  fact,  it  scarcely  seemed 
possible  to  do  so.  Whether  it  was  true  or  not,  therefore, 
cannot  be  stated,  if  the  testimony  of  Sally  (given  in  part 
below)  be  disregarded.  Nevertheless  the  vision  had  serious 
consequences  for  Miss  Beauchamp.  Such  careless  absent- 
mindedness  was  not  to  be  condoned,  was  the  judgment  of 
her  subconscious  guardian.  After  learning  the  content  of 
the  vision.  Miss  Beauchamp  returned  home  to  hunt  for  the 
money,  if  by  chance  it  had  lodged  in  the  gutter.  (Miss 
Beauchamp  had  frequently  found  in  this  gutter  lost  articles 
wliich  had  fallen  off  the  window-sill.)  On  this  occasion  it 
was  not  she  who  found  the  lost  money,  if  Sally  is  to  be 
believed,  for  a  day  or  two  later  the  following  was  received 
from  Sally : 

"It  is  really  a  very  long  time  since  I  wrote  you,  isn't  it? 
and  lots  of  things  have  been  happening  that  I  want  to  tell  you 
about,  so  you  won't  be  cross  with  me  for  sending  you  this? 
*  She '  does  n't  even  read  my  letters  now,  so  that  it  is  only  ex- 
asperating writing  her,  and  I  must  talk  to  some  one,  you  know. 
Was  n't  it  curious,  part  *  of  the  money  was  really  there  in  the 
gutter,  all  curled  up  in  a  disreputable  heap;  and  I  rescued  it 
and  have  hidden  it  where  she  can  never,  never  find  it,  for  she  is 
not  responsible,  you  know,  and  I  am  going  to  take  charge  of  all 

*  In  hypnosis  the  suggestion  had  been  given  that  B  I  should  not  go  into 
trances  any  more. 

2  Sally  found,  as  she  claimed  later,  a  $2  bill  and  two  $1  bills;  originally 
there  was  $7  in  all,  so  that  $3  must  have  blown  away. 


such  things  and  allow  her  only  ten  cents  to  amuse  herself  with. 
But  she  does  n't  care  apparently  for  anything  I  may  do,  and 
it  is  trying.  Won't  you  speak  severely  to  her,  Dr.  Prince, 
please?  I  am  sure  it  would  do  her  no  end  of  good.  I  do  want 
you  to.  And  she  has  destroyed  all  those  pictures  *  of  you  — 
every  one  —  which  were  n't  really  hers  anyway,  and  1  miss  them. 
She  had  much  better  have  destroyed  the  absurd  books  that  she 
buries  herself  in  —  they  are  full  of  such  '  stuff.'  I  would  send 
you  the  slips  if  I  were  not  sure  of  being  sat  upon  for  playing 
tricks.  Hoping  this  may  find  you  neither  tired  nor  sorry,  but 
very  happy,  I  remain," 

"  P.  S.  I  don't  like  [the  name]  Sally,  for  it  is  very  childish, 
but  it  does  n't  matter.  '  She  '  swears  too,  and  is  degenerating 
awfully.    Is  that  psychological  ?  " 

Miss  Beauchamp  had  indeed  cause  to  repent  bitterly  of 
her  absentmindedness  and  lack  of  care,  for  she  was  pun- 
ished by  being  put  upon  an  aUowance  which  was  doled 
out  to  her  in  amounts  of  from  five  to  ten  cents  a  day.  It 
was  about  twenty-four  hours  after  returning  home  that 
she  received  a  note  from  Sally  with  the  first  instalment. 
The  note  said,  in  substance,  that  she  could  have  ten  cents 
to  amuse  herself  with,  but  no  more,  and  that  henceforth 
the  writer  was  going  to  take  charge  of  her  finances.  The 
rest  of  her  money  was  thereupon  confiscated  and  a  deluge 
of  letters  followed,  reminding  Miss  Beauchamp  in  no 
gentle  way,  that  she  was  not  fitted  to  take  care  of  money, 
that  she  was  an  incapable,  and  declaring  that  she  was  to 
be  put  upon  an  allowance.  The  sum,  however,  was  never 
fixed.  Sometimes  it  proved  to  be  five  cents,  and  some- 
times two  cents.  At  other  times  she  would  find  ten  cents 
lying  on  a  sheet  of  paper  with  a  message  accompanying  it. 
Sometimes  it  would  be  rolled  up  in  a  package  or  in  an 
envelope,  and  left  somewhere  about  the  room.  If  she  re- 
fused to  open  or  read  the  letters,  a  piece  of  paper,  on  which 

*  Some  drawings  (caricatures  ?)  of  Sally's. 


a  saucy  message  was  written,  would  be  pinned  up  on  the 
wall  where  she  could  not  help  seeing  it. 

No  amount  of  pleading  would  induce  Sally  to  allow  Miss 
Beauchamp  to  have  more  money  than  her  allowance.  Thus 
was  Miss  Beauchamp  corrected  for  her  carelessness. 

But  this  was  only  a  small  part  of  the  torment  to  which 
she  was  subjected.  Her  punishment  did  not  end  here. 
Her  postage  stamps  were  taken,  and  with  her  small  allow- 
ance she  did  not  have  money  enough  to  buy  them  or  to 
pay  street-car  fares.  So,  in  the  want  of  the  latter,  she 
walked ;  and  as  for  letters,  when  she  wrote  one,  she  was 
compelled  by  her  tyrant  to  place  it  on  the  table  for  ap- 
proval. If  it  was  approved,  she  found  it  stamped  and  was 
allowed  to  post  it ;  if  not  approved,  it  did  not  go,  and  that 
was  the  end  of  it.  "  She  writes  too  many  letters,"  said 
Sally.  "  She  sha'n't  write,  excepting  to  people  whom  I 
choose,  and  she  sha'n't  have  any  money  excepting  what  I 
give  her." 

Miss  Beauchamp  has  a  nervous  antipathy  to  spiders, 
snakes,  and  toads ;  she  abhors  them  to  a  degree  that  con- 
tact with  them  throws  her  into  a  condition  of  terror.  One 
day  she  found  in  her  room  a  small  box  neatly  tied  up,  as 
if  it  were  a  present  for  herself.  On  opening  it  six  spiders 
ran  out.  "  She  screamed,"  said  Sally,  "  when  she  opened 
the  box,  and  they  ran  out  all  over  the  room."  It  turned  out 
that  Sally  had  gone  into  the  country  and  gathered  these 
spiders  as  a  treat  for  Miss  Beauchamp,  On  other  occasions, 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  Sally  provided  snakes. 

One  of  Miss  Bcauchamp's  constant  trials  was  to  find  a 
piece  of  worated  work  she  was  making  unravelled  as  fast 
as  she  made  it.  She  had  been  asked  by  a  very  dear  friend 
(Mrs.  X.)  to  make  a  baby's  blanket.  Her  heart  was  in  the 
work  and  she  was  anxious  to  finish  it.  She  had  worked  at 
it  for  months,  but  often  complained  to  me  that  whenever  it 
neared  completion  she  would  find  it  almost  wholly  unrav- 



elled.  Then,  like  Sisyphus,  she  would  have  to  begin  her 
task  all  over  again.  Finally,  when  at  last  the  blanket  was 
finished  and  ready  to  send,  the  climax  came.  Sally  pulled 
the  whole  of  it  to  pieces,  and  drawing  out  the  yam  wound 
it  round  about  the  furniture,  carrying  it  from  picture  to 
picture,  back  to  the  different  articles  of  furniture,  then 
round  herself  many  times,  then  back  to  the  furniture, 
finally  hiding  the  ends  somewhere  in  the  bed.  Then 
Sally,  standing  in  the  midst  of  this  perfect  tangle  of 
yarn,  wakened  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  came  to  herself 
in  the  maze.  So  great  was  the  tangle  that  she  had  to  cut 
^  the  yarn  to  get  out. 

;  Another  of  Sally's  pranks  which  had  serious  conse- 
*  quences  to  Miss  Beauchamp's  health  was  to  take  her  on 
walks  too  long  for  her  strength.  On  one  occasion  she 
went  out  into  a  suburban  town  ( Watertown)  and  there  took 
a  long  walk,  so  far  beyond  Miss  Beauchamp's  strength  that 
it  left  the  latter  exhausted.  Miss  Beauchamp  came  to  her- 
self in  this  suburb,  weary  and  helpless,  unable  to  recognize 
the  place,  and  ignorant  of  the  waj'^  home. 

One  very  curious  phenomenon  was  the  difference  be- 
tween the  physical  condition  of  Sally  and  that  of  Miss 
Beauchamp  after  a  fatiguing  walk  of  this  kind.  On  this 
occasion  two  days  later  Miss  Beauchamp  was  still  extremely 
fatigued  and  worn  out.  Then  suddenly  changing  in  my 
presence  to  Sally,  this  personage  appeared  perfectly  fresh 
and  unaffected  by  the  walk.  Then  changing  back  to 
Miss  Beauchamp,  the  fatigue  returned  with  the  change 
of  personality. 

Sally's  enjoyment  at  making  Miss  Beauchamp  tell  non- 
sensical lies  has  already  been  related,  as  well  as  the  way 
this  young  scapegrace  would  spend  the  latter's  money.  I 
do  not  think  I  have  mentioned  how  Sally  took  advantage 
of  Miss  Beauchamp's  sense  of  dignity.  Knowing  this  feel- 
ing was  acute,  Sally,  to  punish  her,  would  make  her  sit 


with  her  feet  on  another  chair,  or  even  on  the  mantelpiece. 
Miss  Beauchamp  could  not  take  her  feet  down,  but  would 
have  to  sit  there  undergoing  the  torture  of  mortification. 
On  numerous  occasions  (Miss  Beauchamp  now  says  "  innu- 
merable ")  Sally  tore  up  many  manuscript  pages  of  her 
school  work,  the  product  of  much  labor.  She  used  to  try 
her  best  at  times  to  prevent  Miss  Beauchamp's  doing  things 
the  latter  wanted  to  do ;  then  Miss  Beauchamp  would  feel 
an  "irresistible  impulse,"  as  if  "possessed,"  as  she  de- 
scribed it. 

Of  course,  Sally,  on  the  principle  of  giving  a  dog  a  bad 
name,  got  blamed  for  much  she  did  not  do.  Naturally, 
when  anything  went  wrong  she  was  the  first  to  be  sus- 
pected. Although  it  amused  her  to  make  Miss  Beauchamp 
miserable,  nevertheless  at  times,  when  she  went  too  far 
and  Miss  Beauchamp  became  ill  from  anxiety,  Sally  would 
be  alarmed  and  would  write  me  a  letter  asking  for  help, 
saying  she  could  "  not  do  anything  with  Miss  Beauchamp  " ; 
and  that  I  "  really  must  help  "  her. 

The  above  are  but  a  small  number  of  the  practical  jokes 
which  Sally  played  on  her  other  self.  It  would  seem  as  if 
practical  jokes  and  hazing  were  trials  enough  for  one  per- 
son to  bear ;  but  of  all  the  trials  which  Miss  Beauchamp 
had  to  undergo,  I  think  what  she  minded  most  were  the 
lettei-s  she  received  from  her  other  self.  She  was  deluged 
with  letters  ;  and  if  she  refused  to  read  them  Sally  would 
pin  upon  the  wall  sheets  of  paper  with  messages  written 
thereon,  and  so  placed  that  she  could  not  help  seeing  them. 
Sally  knew  her  sensitiveness,  her  keen  sense  of  honor,  as 
well  as  all  her  little  weaknesses,  and  these  she  played  upon 
in  a  highly  artistic  manner.  Then  again  Sally  would 
wi'ite  letters  to  different  people,  telling  all  sorts  of  thmgs 
about  Miss  Beauchamp's  private  affaire,  exaggerating  and 
distorting  them  beyond  recognition,  and  even  telling  things 
not  true.     She  would  describe  extraordinary  and  impos- 


sible  things  she  proposed  to  do,  pretended  engagements 
objectionable  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  —  all  of  which  was  suffi- 
cient to  frighten  the  latter  out  of  her  senses.  These  letters 
Sally  had  no  intention  of  sending,  but  she  would  leave 
them  open  where  they  could  be  read  by  Miss  Beauchamp, 
who,  taking  them  seriously,  would  be  made  to  feel  she 
lived  over  a  dynamite  magazine.  Sometimes,  however, 
Sally  would  actually  send  letters  which  expressed  her  own 
peculiar  ideas.  These  naturally  would  be  extremely  disa- 
greeable to  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  would  learn  of  them 
from  her  friends  or  from  the  letters  received  in  reply. 

Of  all  thejo  letters,  perhaps  the  most  diabolical  and  the 
most  troublesome  for  me  were  those  in  which  Sally  misrep- 
resented my  attitude  towards  Miss  Beauchamp.  For  in- 
stance, she  wrote  B  I  that  I  accused  her  of  not  keeping 
her  word  and  of  telling  untruths,  and  that  I  was  so  annoyed 
with  her  that  I  wished  her  never  to  come  again  for  treat- 
ment. _Sally's  game  was  to  prevent  Miss  Beauchamjp's 
-being  the  object  of  pare.  In  spite  of  constant  warnings 
not  to  believe  Sally's  statements,  B  I  always  accepted  them 
as  true.  A  despairing  letter  from  her  would  follow,  de- 
claring her  ignorance  of  everything  she  had  ever  done  in 
her  "lapses,"  and  asking  forgiveness  for  anything  that  was 
displeasing.  Here  is  a  letter  from  Sally  to  me  which 
suggests  her  state  of  mind  in  relation  to  Miss  Beauchamp : 

"  You  are  a  perfectly  charming  correspondent  —  much  more 
interesting  and  unconventional  than  Jones  —  and  I  am  sure  I 
shall  enjoy  writing  to  you  no  end,  especially  if  you  continue  to 
ignore  everything  I  tell  you.  Do  you  fancy  that  makes  one 
feel  snubbed  and  repentant  ?  because  it  does  n't,  the  least  little 
bit  in  the  world.  I  am  '  made  of  sterner  stuff,'  as  the  books 
say.  The  enclosed  youth  ^  I  am  much  interested  in,  and  hope 
you  will  appreciate  his  expression,  which  is  strongly  like  Miss 
Beauchamp's   during    the   wee   sma'    hours   when  she  cannot 

1  An  illostration  cut  from  one  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  favorite  books. 


sleep.  Don't  show  it  to  lier  on  any  account,  for  it  is  taken 
from  one  of  her  cherished  books,  and  she  might  perhaps  not 

The  following  are  a  few  of  the  letters  Miss  Beauchamp 
received  from  the  same  correspondent.  The  great  mass  of 
them  was  destroyed,  as  many  referred  to  private  matters 
in  a  disagreeable  way,  and  Miss  Beauchamp  felt  so  keenly 
the  mortification  of  her  acts  that  it  was  with  difficulty  she 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  show  the  letters. 

"The  enclosed  with  my  compliments,  Mistress  Chris,  and 
you  will  permit  me  to  congratulate  you  on  so  successful  an 
issue  to  your  evening's  work.  After  this  you  will  hardly  have 
need  of  me  or  of  my  assistance  in  your  financial  afifairs.  I 
regret  not  having  the  proverbial  shilling  for  you,  yet  you  are 
'  such  a  sweet  child '  that  I  know  you  won't  murmur.     Are  you 

going  to  tell all  about ?    It  would  be  awfully  nice  and 

unconventional,  and  he  would  appreciate  your  confiding  in  him, 
I  am  sure,  almost  if  not  quite  as  much  as  Dr.  Prince  himself. 
Do  tell  him.  I  hope  you  may  enjoy  life  very  much  indeed  dur- 
ing these  next  few  weeks.  1  am  going  to  make  it  just  as  lively 
and  interesting  for  you  as  I  possibly  can,  and  you  know  that 
means  a  great  deal  when  I  say  it.  Does  n't  your  fancy  conjure 
up  all  sorts  of  visions  ?  You  shall  have  all  my  thought  and  care 
and  attention  to  keep  you  from  brooding.  Think  of  it !  Your 
knight  sans  peiir  and  sans  reproche  could  hardly  do  more,  how- 
ever you  might  thrill  and  agonize  for  him.  He  's  not  exactly 
interested  you  know,  as  I  am,  and  of  course  cannot  help  getting 
awfully  tired  of  you.  But  I  sha'n't  tire  —  not  till  '  stoodent  C. 
is  very  dead  and  puts  a  bullet  through  her  head.'  How  long 
will  that  be,  do  you  think?  Days,  weeks,  —  not  longer,  surely, 
for  you  love  your  friends,  you  know,  and  would  not  cause  them 
a  moment's  pain.  You  never  did,  dear,  did  you?  You  will 
sacrifice  yourself  at  the  earliest  opportunity." 

"  If  you  do  not  write  Nan  immediately  —  this  very  day  —  I 
shall,  and  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  I  shall  entertain  her  at 
your  expense  —  not  a  difficult  thing,  you  know,  and  it  would 


please  her  immensely,  I  am  sure.  Also,  I  do  not  approve  of 
the  blue  book,  and  shall  sew  up  your  skii't  again  if  you  read  it.^ 
Remember ! " 

"I  have  such  good  news  for  you,  my  dearest  Chris.  Just 
fancy,  Z.  knows  where  there  is  a  whole  colony  of  lovely  cool, 
green  snakes  —  little  slippery,  sliddery  ones,  you  know  —  and 
I  'm  going  to  get  them  to  amuse  you  at  night  and  keep  you  from 

dreaming  of  your  dear .     Are  n't  you  glad  ?     But  I  know 

you  're  not  the  least  little  bit  grateful  —  but  you  will  be  before 
we  have  finished  our  course  together.  Do  you  smart  to-daj', 
awfully?  It's  good  for  you,  you  know;  you  must  always 
remember  that,  Chris,  dear.     I  enclose  a  stamp  for  you  too." 

"  You  little  wretch  !  What  did  you  kill  my  nice  spiders  for? 
I  wish  they  'd  bitten  you  all  over.  It  would  have  served  you 
just  exactly  right  for  destroying  things  that  don't  belong  to 
you.  '  Soul  of  honor '  indeed !  '  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! ' 
You  were  a  thief  to  touch  my  pictures,  and  a  wicked,  wicked 
girl !  You  had  nothing  to  do  with  them.  They  were  all  mine, 
and  you  shall  wear  the  sack  for  your  sins.  There  are  more 
spiders,  and  there  are  caterpillars  too,  all  squashy,  if  the  sack 
is  not  happiness  enough  for  you." 

"  It  was  a  horribly  mean  advantage  to  take  of  any  one.  Mis- 
tress Chris,  and  you  know  it,  and  you  shall  be  punished  for  it. 
I  have  the  greatest  mind  in  the  world  to  send  the  letter  directly 
to  Dr.  Prince,  and  then  you  'd  see  whether  even  for  her  sake 
he  'd  tolerate  you.  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  outrageous, 
and  yet  you  are  proud,  yes,  and  honorable,  and  quite  shocked 
at  your  humble  servant's  disregard  of  conventions.  How  I  hate 
you  for  a  hypocrite !  But  I  must  not  spare  the  rod,  for  by  it 
you  may  be  saved  even  yet.  It  will  be  better  after  all  than  an 
appeal  to  Dr.  Prince.     He  does  "  —  [Remainder  of  letter  lost.] 

"  How  awfully  amusing  you  are,  my  dear,  with  all  your  shifts 
and  evasions ;  but  you  cannot  escape  me  so.  You  are  to  do  just 
exactly  what  I  tell  you  concerning  Z.,  and  moreover  you  are  to 

*  Sally  at  night  used  to  sew  np  Miss  Beanchamp's  clothes,  so  that  \n  the 
morning,  when  in  a  harry,  she  could  not  get  into  them. 


do  it  at  once.     I  simply  won't  have  this  nonsense  about  B. 

You  shall  love  J ,  always  and  forever,  or  if  you  don't  you 

ought  to  and  you  shall.  I  will  make  you  —  just  make  3'ou  —  you 
wicked,  wicked  girl.  Do  you  want  to  be  all  bluggy  and  wear 
the  sack  again?  One  would  certainly  think  so,  and  if  it  comes 
to  it  I  won't  deny  you.  You  may  have  until  evening  to  con- 
sider, and  then,  '  O,  I  'm  sorry  for  Mrs.  Bluebeard,  sorry  to 
cause  her  pain,  but  a  terrible  spree  there  's  sure  to  be  when  I 
come  back  again,'  if  you  have  n't  done  as  1  told  you.  There  is 
none  to  help  you  —  no,  not  one.  We  all  hate  j'ou.  Only  some- 
times occasionally  one  pities  you  a  little  for  being  such  an 
idiot  and  tries  to  help  you,  but  it  is  useless.  My  way  is  better. 
B.  is  a  goose,  and  so  is ." 

These  notes  were  enclosed  in  the  following  from  Miss 
Beauchamp  to  the  writer: 

' '  I  am  sending  you  with  this  such  of  the  notes  as  I  have 
been  able  to  find.  There  are  more  doubtless,  scattered  about, 
and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  send  you  those  too  as  I  come  across 
them,  if  you  think  they  would  be  of  any  interest.  Sally's  feel- 
iug  toward  rae  is  very  strong,  as  you  know,  and  she  does  not 
hesitate  to  give  expression  to  it  both  by  word  and  deed.  I 
have  shrunk  from  telling  you  much  of  the  'discipline'  to  which 
you  will  find  reference  in  some  of  the  letters,  and  don't  think  it 
is  necessary  to  do  so  even  now,  except,  perhaps,  for  your  fuller 
comprehension.  The  other  notes  referred  to,  I  think  you  under- 
stand as  well,  or  perhaps  much  better  than  I  do  myself.  [Let- 
ter goes  on  to  state  what  seem  to  be  the  principal  '  grievances 
in  Sally's  mind '  and  then  continues ;]  Most  of  the  letters  in  which 
she  enlarges  upon  this  I  have  unfortunately  destroyed,  for  1  did 
not  want  them  to  fall  into  any  one's  hands.  They  were  really 
dreadful.  .  .  .  One  would  almost  swear  she  was  bitterly  jealous. 
Oh,  Dr.  Prince,  save  me  from  her,  from  myself,  from  whatever 
it  is  that  is  so  absolutely  merciless !  I  can  bear  the  '  sack,' 
'  discipline,'  anything  that  is  physical  —  but  not  the  mockery  of 
this  devil.  You  cannot  imagine  the  torture  I  have  endured  in 
these  few  months  —  no  one  could. 

"But  this  brings  me  to  your  letter  [written  to  tell  her  that 


Sally's  message  to  the  effect  that  she  was  to  be  dismissed  was 
untrue,  etc.]  .  .  .  No  one  has  the  slightest  control  over  this 
devil  that  possesses  me  save  you.  You  won't  leave  me  to  its 


The  child  mind  in  Sally's  compositions  is  too  obvious  to 
be  dwelt  upon.  The  letters  remind  one  of  the  way  in 
which  a  child  might  upbraid  her  doll ;  and  yet  Sally  could 
write  kindly,  sympathetic  letters — childlike  too  —  of  which 
I  have  often  been  the  recipient.  She  affected  to  Miss  Beau- 
champ  to  dislike  any  one  whom  Miss  Beauchamp  held  in 
esteem,  and  yet  I  knew  from  personal  knowledge  that 
Sally  held  some  of  these  persons  in  equal  regard.  Sally 
and  the  writer  were  the  best  of  friends,  though  she  made 
Miss  Beauchamp  believe  the  contrary.  In  judging  Sally, 
all  this  must  be  kept  in  mind.  But  Sally  hated  Miss 
Beauchamp,  and  the  secret  of  her  hatred  was  unquestion- 
ably jealousy,  as  Miss  Beauchamp  suspected,  Sally  fre- 
quently complained  that  everybody  seemed  to  care  about 
what  was  going  to  become  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  but  nothing 
about  her  own  fate.  She  felt  hurt  too  that  she  was  told 
she  was  childish  and  irresponsible  and  broke  her  promises, 
while  Miss  Beauchamp  was  treated  with  great  respect. 
"Nobody  cares  what  becomes  of  me,"  she  would  repeat. 
Then  she  felt  her  lack  of  mental  accomplishments  as  com- 
pared with  Miss  Beauchamp.  And  even  when  made  much 
of  by  friends  who  did  not  know  of  the  split  in  the  family, 
she  knew  that  the  attentions  were  intended  for  Miss  Beau- 
champ and  not  for  herself. 

[Notebook]  April  28,  1899.  "  As  Sally  had  been  tormenting 
Miss  Beauchamp,  I  took  occasion  to  upbraid  her.  In  answer 
to  the  question  why  she  behaved  so  badly,  she  replied,  '  I  hate 
her,  and  I  won't  give  her  any  more  money,  and  I  won't  give  her 
any  more  postage  stamps.     I  just  hate  her  more  and  more! ' 

"  '  But  why  do  you  hate  her  ?  You  are  only  hating  yourself, 
for  she  is  yourself,' 


"  '  No,  she  is  n't.'     [With  resentment.] 

"  '  Yes,  she  is.' 

"  '  No,  she  is  n't.  I  won't  have  it  so !  We  are  not  the  same 
person.  We  don't  think  alike,  and  we  don't  have  the  same 
thoughts,'  etc.,  etc.  Her  indignation  increased,  and  she  ended 
again  with,  'I  certainly  hate  her.  She  thinks  she  won't  let  me 
come  [that  is,  into  active  existence  as  Sally].  She  has  been  say- 
ing it  all  day.  I  made  her  stay  awake  all  last  night,  and  I  will 
to-night,  and  I  will  every  night.  I  am  going  to  make  a  collec- 
tion of  other  things  too  besides  spiders.  I  am  going  to  do  every- 
thing I  can  think  of,  and  I  can  think  of  all  sorts  of  things  when 
I  try  hard.  I  tried  to  cut  off  her  hair  the  other  day,  but  she 
woke  up  before  I  could  do  it.  I  think  the  scissors  waked  her 

"  '  You  will  cut  off  your  own  hair ;  it  is  your  hair.' 

[Laughing.]  "  '  I  don't  care.  She  will  look  a  guy  —  just  like 
one  of  those  monkeys.     I  don't  care  how  I  look.' 

"  A  few  minutes  later,  after  discussing  the  way  the  spiders 
ran  out  of  the  box,  Sally  burst  out  with,  '  I  wish  she  were 

' ' '  Dead  and  buried  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  only  I  don't  know  where  I  should  be.* 

"  '  Well,  where  would  you  be? ' 

"  At  this  question  she  manifested  much  displeasure,  as  It  sug- 
gested horrid  possibilities ;  she  was  unwilling  to  continue  the 
conversation,  but  as  I  persisted  she  finally  remarked,  '  1  don't 
see  how  I  could  be  dead,  but  I  suppose  I  would  have  to  be.' 
[Sally  never  liked  to  admit  that  she  and  Miss  Beauchamp  were 
one  person.] 

"  '  Why  would  you  have  to  be?' 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  it  would  be  nice  to  be  all 
mouldy  and  shut  up  in  a  box  with  nasty  worms  and  things.' 
Her  mobile  face  as  she  said  this  was  most  expressive  of  these 
horrible  possibilities.  She  seemed  to  think  it  possible  for  her- 
self to  be  alive  while  Miss  Beauchamp  was  dead,  and  yet  she 
could  not  reconcile  this  idea  with  what  she  knew  of  material 
things.  (There  is  some  logic  in  this,  as  in  her  present  life  she 
regards  IVIiss  Beauchamp  and  speaks  of  her,  though  in  a  meta- 
phorical sense  as  '  dead '  when  she,  Sally,  is  in  existence.     At 


such  times  Sally  has  no  consciousness  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
existence.     'Where  is  she  now?'  Sally  often  asks.) 

"  '  You  both  have  the  same  arms  and  legs,  have  n't  you?  '  I 


' ' '  Then  if  her  arn[is  and  legs  were  all  mouldy,  yours  would  be 
too,  would  n't  they  ? ' 

"This  capped  her  displeasure,  and  as  she  seemed  to  think  it 
must  be  so  she  refused  to  talk  more  about  it." 


THE  BIRTH  OP  B   IV,  "  THE   IDIOT  " 

IN  June  of  this  year  (1899)  there  occurred  some  impor- 
tant developments  which  were  not  only  of  psychological 
interest,  but  which  were  destined  to  give  an  entirely  new 
aspect  to  the  case.  Another  personality  appeared.  Up 
to  this  time  the  psychological  problem  had  been  compara- 
tively simple.  Two  persons  had  been  contending  for  the  7 
mastery  of  life,  each  insisting  on  her  own  prerogative  to  ' 
live,  but  there  had  been  no  doubt  about  which  was  the 
Real  Miss  Beauchamp.  Now  a  third  person  came  upon 
the  scene;  one  whom  we  had  never  met  before,  but  who 
seemed  quite  as  much  a  real  person  as  did  the  Miss  Beau-  ; 
champ  whom  we  all  knew.  "  Where  did  she  come  from  ?  " 
"How  did  she  get  here?"  and  "Who  is  she?"  were  the 
questions.  Her  advent  plainly  brought  new  problems  to 
be  solved,  and  raised  doubts  about  the  identity  and  origin 
of  our  old  friend.  More  than  this,  her  coming  brought 
new  complications  into  the  life  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  who 
had  more  and  sorer  trials  to  undergo,  worse  than  any- 
thing she  had  as  yet  passed  through.  I  shall  give  in  con- 
siderable detail  the  circumstances  under  which  this  new 
personality  came,  in  order  that  no  doubt  about  the  absolute 
spontaneity  of  her  origin  may  be  raised : 

One  day  (the  evening  of  June  7)  I  was  summoned  to 
visit  Miss  Beauchamp  at  her  house.  On  my  arrival  I 
found  her  in  a  condition  of  intense  nervous  agitation,  and 
looking  extremely  fatigued  and  depressed.  So  nervous 
was  she  that  she  was  scarcely  able  to  keep  her  limbs  in 
repose  a  moment.    She  had  left  my  office  in  good  condition 


only  a  few  lioura  before,  and  the  sudden  change  was  diffi- 
cult to  understiind.  It  was  not  until  several  months  after- 
ward, in  the  autumn,  that  the  real  exciting  cause  of  this 
evening's  events  was  revealed,  —  a  mental  shock  of  great 
significance,  which,  unknown  to  me,  she  had  received  that 
afternoon  shortly  after  leaving  my  house.  I  will  narrate 
the  events  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  disclosed: 

On  my  arrival,  as  I  have  said,  Miss  Beauchamp  exhib- 
ited great  depression,  fatigue,  and  nervousness,  a  condition 
usually  observed  in  her  when  under  mental  strain.  She 
was  reticent,  answering  questions  in  monosyllables,  and 
volunteered  almost  no  information.  She  was  anything 
but  sociable.  Her  reticence  seemed  to  amount  to  an 
aboulia,  and  she  gave  the  impression  that  something  was 
on  her  mind.  After  a  few  minutes  of  this  an  extraordinary 
change  came  over  her.  She  appeared  natural,  tranquil  in 
mind  and  body,  and  sociable.  All  nervousness  and  signs 
of  fatigue  ceased.  She  was  without  aboulia  and  chatted 
pleasantly;  in  fact,  seemed  a  new  character,  healthy- 
minded,  and  with  every  bit  of  reserve  gone.  I  had  never 
seen  her  so  natural  and  sociably  disposed,  and  the  change 
was  puzzling.  A  few  moments  before  she  had  complained 
of  insomnia,  which  had  frequently  played  havoc  with  her 
nerves,  and  as  this  is  always  easily  controlled  by  sugges- 
tion, I  arose  from  my  seat  and  approaching  her  made  a 
gesture  as  if  to  stroke  her  forehead  and  eyelids  for  the  pur- 
pose of  inducing  hypnosis.  To  my  surprise  she  strongly 
resented  this,  saying,  "No  one  shall  do  that  but  Dr. 
Prince."  It  was  evident,  then,  in  spite  of  her  naturalness, 
that  she  had  a  hallucination  and  mistook  me  for  some  one 
else.  I  asked  her  for  some  writing  paper  for  notes.  She 
walked  across  the  room  and  brought  me  some  sheets  of 
blue  note  paper  and  some  of  white. ^  On  these  I  made  the 
notes  from  which  this  account  is  written. 

1  These  and  other  details  are  important,  as  will  later  appear  a^  the  evi- 
dence is  brought  out. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  IV,   "THE  IDIOT"  173 

"Am  I  not  Dr.  Prince?"  I  said  in  reply  to  her  last 

"You  know  you  are  not." 

"Who  am  I?" 

"You  ought  to  know," 



"What  am  I?"     [Refemng  to  my  profession.] 

"  You  ought  to  know."  Then,  offended  as  if  I  had  been 
flippant,  "Don't  talk  that  way." 

I  persisted  in  maintaining  my  identity,  trying  every  sort 
of  argument  to  prove  it.  At  first  she  treated  my  state- 
ments as  a  joke ;  then  responsively  played  her  part,  saying 
that,  if  I  would  have  it  so  and  wished  to  play  that  part 
it  should  be  so,  only  she  knew  I  was  n't  Dr.  Prince.  She 
was  bright,  lively,  and  quick  at  badinage.  There  was 
nothing  for  me  to  do  but  accept  the  situation  and  play  the 
part  of  William  Jones.  Presently  she  asked,  "Why  do 
you  come  here?     You  run  great  risks." 


"You  ought  to  know.  I  am  not  going  to  preach,"  etc., 
etc.  "  Things  are  different  from  what  they  were  ten  years 

Her  whole  mental  attitude  showed  that  she  believed 
that  I,  as  Jones,  knew  the  facts  and  circumstances  as  well 
as  she  did,  and  therefore  what  was  the  use  of  masquer- 
ading? But  I  was  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  the  meaning 
of  it  all,  particularly  as  I  did  not  suppose  at  the  time  that 
she  imagined  herself  somewhere  else  than  in  Boston. 

"How  do  I  risk  anything?"  I  persisted. 

"You  risk  breaking  your  neck,  for  one  thing,"  she 

This  answer  puzzled  me,  but  in  reply  to  my  question 
as  to  how  she  supposed  I  camo  there,  she  answered,  "  Of 
course  you  came  through  the  window." 


As  we  were  on  the  third  floor  of  the  house,  this  answer, 
though  in  my  ignorance  it  appeared  to  explain  the  joke, 
seemed  to  me  at  the  time  some  fantastic  idea.  I  denied 
this  statement,  so  after  some  fencing  she  asked  facetiously, 
"Did  you  knock  at  the  door?" 

I  explained  that  I  had  rung  the  front-door  bell  in  the 
customary  way  and  had  asked  for  her. 

[Horrified. ]     "  You  did  n't !  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  know  why  not.  I  never  saw  any  one  so  absolutely 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  did  not  see  why  William  Jones, 
or  I  myself,  or  any  one  else  should  not  ask  for  her  at  the 
door  in  that  way.  (It  is  only  completely  intelligible  by 
the  light  of  later  revelations.)  But  remembering  Miss 
Beauchamp's  views,  and  what  I  knew  of  the  affair,  I 
attributed  it  (wrongly)  to  social  considerations.  After 
some  further  discussion,  in  which  she  still  insisted  upon 
the  unwisdom  of  my  coming,  but  at  the  same  time  took  it 
all  in  the  spirit  of  a  lark,  I  put  a  series  of  questions  to  her 
to  determine  whether  her  memory  was  continuous  for  the 
events  of  the  evening,  —  that  is  to  say,  whether  she  was 
in  the  same  state  of  consciousness  as  at  the  time  of  my 
arrival,  when  she  recognized  me  as  Dr.  Prince. 

"Who  was  here  a  minute  ago?" 

"There  wasn't  any  one  here." 

[In  a  surprised  tone.]     "What!  there  wasn't?" 

"No.     You  are  perfectly  mad." 

Again  I  repeated  the  question,  insisting  emphatically 
that  some  one  had  been  there,  but  again  she  insisted  upon 
the  contrary,  as  if  the  question  were  an  utter  absurdity 
and  it  was  impossible  any  one  could  have  been  there. 
(This  tone  also  struck  me  at  the  time  as  curious.) 

Coming  directly  to  the  point,  I  asked,  "Wasn't  Dr. 
Prince  here  ?  " 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B   IV,    "THE  IDIOT"         175 

"  What  an  absurd  question!  " 

"Well,  was  n't  he?" 

"Why,  no." 

I  insisted  that  he  had  been. 

"It  is  absurd." 

"Why  is  it  absurd?    He  is  your  physician." 

"I  don't  require  him." 

"Yes,  you  do." 

"Not  here.^    I  am  not  sick  enough  for  that." 

"They  told  me  downstairs,"  I  continued,  "that  he  was 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  come  here  for,  then  ?  "  (The 
recklessness  of  my  conduct  at  once  strikes  her.) 

I  repeat  my  last  remark,  but  she  replies,  "Will,  you 
know  perfectly  well  that  isn't  true." 

It  was  thus  i^iade  plain  that  Miss  Beauchamp  had  no 
memory  for  the  events  of  the  early  part  of  the  visit  when 
she  had  recognized  me.  Her  memory  was  not  continuous 
for  the  whole  evening,  but  went  back  only  to  the  moment 
when  the  outward  visible  change  came  over  her.  It  was 
also  plain  that  a  change  of  some  kind  had  occurred  since 
my  entrance,  and  that  I  was  either  dealing  with  something 
different  from  any  state  I  had  met  before,  or  else  that 
Miss  Beauchamp  herself  had  suddenly  become  free  from 
her  peculiar  stigmata,  but  at  the  same  time  the  victim  of 
amnesia  and  an  illusion.  The  change  in  character  and 
physical  condition,  and  the  cleavage  in  memory  pointed 
to  the  former  view ;  just  as  the  perfectly  logical  attitude 
of  her  mind,  the  normality  of  her  character,  her  spon- 
taneity, and  the  absence  of  all  nervousness,  rendered  the 
latter  hypothesis  improbable.  But  there  still  remained 
much  that  was  puzzling. 

If  on  the  other  hand  she  was  B  I  and  was  the  subject  of 
an  illusion,  the  latter  was  not  extraordinary  as  I  had 
1  Note  the  reference  to  the  locality. 


known  Miss  Beauchamp,  when  nervously  ill,  and  even 
when  in  hypnosis,  to  have  illusions,  but  it  was  difficult  to 
reconcile  it  with  her  amnesia  for  the  early  part  of  the 
evening  and  at  the  same  time  with  her  normality  in  other 
respects.  I  did  not  realize  at  this  time,  what  I  afterward 
learned,  that  she  imagined  hei-self  in  a  distant  city.  There- 
fore it  seemed  odd  that  she  should  believe  I  had  come  in 
through  the  window  —  the  room  was  on  the  third  story  — 
and  that  she  should  be  disturbed  because  I  (Jones)  had 
asked  for  her  at  the  door.  Still  I  put  it  down  to  a  freak 
of  delirium,  or  to  an  idea  of  a  breach  of  the  social  con- 
venance.  The  real  reason  appeared  only  in  the  sequel. 
1/  But  I  would  again  emphasize  certain  peculiarities  of  her 
delusion  which  have  great  significance,  and  which  should 
be  kept  in  mind.  First,  I  was  mistaken  for  some  one  else; 
second,  she  mistook  her  surroundings ;  third,  she  thought 
that  I,  as  another  person,  had  come  in  by  the  window; 
fourth,  my  visit  was  a  great  indiscretion,  and  it  was  un- 
desirable that  any  one  should  know  of  my  being  there. 
(Even  supposing  I  were  Jones  there  did  not  seem  to  be 
any  reason  for  this.)  Fifth,  she  did  not  require  Dr.  P. 
(myself)  in  the  place  where  she  supposed  herself  to  be. 

All  these  details  afterwards  became  clear  when  the  true 
explanation  of  this  episode  was  found.  At  the  moment, 
so  marked  was  the  change,  the  question  arose  whether  this 
was  a  real  peraonality,  distinct  from  Miss  Beauchamp, 
and  if  so,  who  it  was,  and  why  these  illusions.  It  plainly 
was  not  Sally;  and  Sally  herself,  who  came  later,  dis- 
claimed the  identity.  At  the  moment,  making  the  test 
for  anesthesia,^  it  was  found  that  cutaneous  sensation  was 
normal ;  but  on  giving  her  a  French  book  she  was  unable 
to  read  it,  as  Miss  Beauchamp  could  do;  so  that  she 
lacked  certain  peculiarities  of  Sally  and  B  I,  respectively. 

^  One  of  the  tests  for  Sail}',  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  a  peculiar 
form  of  anesthesia. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  IV,    "  TIIPJ  IDIOT"         177 

On  further  testing  her  memory,  what  seemed  a  contra- 
dictory condition  developed;  namely,  she  remembered 
many  incidents,  but  not  all  of  that  same  day,  though  she 
must  have  experienced  these  as  B  I.  So  that  if  she  was 
a  personality  distinct  from  B  I,  then  her  relation  to  B  I 
seemed  on  this  evidence  to  be  like  that  of  B  II  or  B  III;^ 
or  the  cleavage  was  not  complete,  and,  on  her  side  at 
least,  her  consciousness  dovetailed  into  that  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ.  I  may  anticipate  here  by  saying  that  the  true 
explanation,  which  developed  some  time  later,  showed 
that  this  knowledge  of  B  I's  later  life  was  more  apparent 
than  real,  and  that  it  consisted  of  fragmentary,  abbrevi- 
ated, and  occasional  sort-of-clairvoyant  glimpses,  which 
offered  for  study  some  very  interesting  psychological 
phenomena. 2  These  came  automatically  out  of  the  depths, 
without  logical  conscious  associations,  and  contributed 
temporarily  to  a  wrong  understanding  of  her  memory. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  cleavage  was,  or  shortly  became, 
complete,  and  the  new  personality,  for  such  it  proved 
to  be,  had  no  direct  consciousness  of  the  events  of  B  I's 
life.  These  facts  are  mentioned  here  for  the  sake  of 
completeness,  and  to  show  some  of  the  difficulties  of  the 
problem  at  this  time.  Her  knowing  some  of  the  occur- 
rences of  the  day  misled  me  into  thinking  that  she  had  a 
wider  knowledge. 

Thus  spontaneously  in  my  presence  a  new  personality 
was  born. 

After  observing  her  for  some  time  it  became  essential 
that  the  illusion  regarding  my  identity  should  be  dispelled. 
This  was  finally  accomplished  by  showing  her  my  name 
engraved  in  the  back  of  my  watch.     The  effect  was  pecu- 

1  That  is,  she  knew  Miss  Beauchamp's  life. 

2  See  Chapter  XV.  Of  this  character  was  the  apparent  knowledge  of  me 
implied  by  her  remark  that  no  one  should  hypnotize  her  but  Dr.  Prince 
(page  172). 



liar.  As  she  gazed  at  it  she  seemed  for  the  moment  con- 
founded. "How  did  you  come  by  that?"  she  asked, 
astonished,  and  as  she  tried  to  reconcile  in  her  mind  my 
(Jones's)  possession  of  another  person's  watch,  she  became 
abstracted  and  confused;  a  change  came  over  her,  and 
suddenly  Miss  Beauchamp  reappeared  with  entire  oblivion 
of  everything  that  had  happened  since  her  disappearance. 

r"  Later  still,  Sally  came,  but  she  was  unable  to  throw 
light  upon  the  new  personality.  She  noticed  her  pecu- 
liarities, including  her  amnesia  for  the  early  events  of  the 
evening,  and  her  apparent  memory  for  other  events  in  Miss 
Beauchamp's  life,  such  as  having  been  hypnotized  by  me; 
but  nevertheless  Sally  insisted,  and  to  this  she  adhered 
for  a  long  time  with  pertinacity,  that  "  She  "  was  not  a 
"person."  "There  are  not  three  of  us,  and  there  sha'n't 
be,  and  that 's  all  there  is  about  it,"  she  declared.^ 

A  day  or  two  after  this  episode  the  new  personality 
walked  into  my  consulting  room.  This  time,  completely 
free  from  her  illusion,  she  addressed  me  by  name,  but 
manifested  an  air  of  formality  such  as  might  have  been 
shown  by  any  patient  with  whom  one  has  not  a  long-stand- 
ing acquaintance.  Indeed,  she  was  conspicuously  formal 
in  her  attitude,  more  so  than  Miss  Beauchamp  had  ever 
been.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  her  as  the 
^  new  personality,  but  so  far  as  the  extent  of  her  memory 
went,  everything  seemed  to  be  so  much  a  matter  of  course 
with  her  on  this  occasion  that  I  was  misled.  She  remem- 
bered, or  rather  professed  to  remember,  her  illusion  of 
taking  me  for  Jones  on  the  evening  of  June  seventh,  but 
could  not  give  an  explanation  of  it.  In  manner  she  was 
very  quiet  and  composed,  much  as  she  had  been  on  her 
first    appearance,  —  and    strikingly   different   from    Miss 

1  In  the  months  that  followed,  Sally  at  times  studied  this  new  personality 
with  considerable  interest  and  intelligence,  and  contributed  considerably  to 
our  knowledge  of  her. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  IV,   "THE   IDIOT"         179 

Beauchamp.  She  was  affable  and  agreeable  in  conversa- 
tion, and  did  not  exhibit  the  slightest  evidence  of  aboulia. 
She  conversed  as  if  she  had  the  same  knowledge  of  past 
events  as  had  B  I,  B  II,  and  Sally.  It  did  not  occur  to 
me  at  this  time,  so  cleverly  she  acted  her  part,  and  so  mis- 
led was  I  by  the  previous  knowledge  shown,  to  question 
this  assumption.  By  her  conversation  she  allowed,  or 
rather  encouraged,  me  to  infer  that  she  knew  all  about 
B  1,1  just  as  B  II  and  Sally  did.  The  time  was  not  propi- 
tious for  a  thorough  investigation,  which  would  probably 
have  been  resented,  so  that  the  interview  was  little  more 
than  a  social  one.  Her  mental  characteristics  were  strik- 
ingly different  from  those  of  B  I,  but  to  avoid  repetition 
these  will  be  mentioned  later  in  connection  with  certain 
observations  which  give  a  deeper  insight  into  the  pecu- 
liarities of  her  character. 

Afterwards,  when  I  began  to  revise  my  notes  and  to 
think  over  the  interview,  it  was  impressed  upon  me  that 
this  new  member  of  the  family  volunteered  very  little 
information  regarding  the  past,  that  it  was  I  who  spoke  of 
past  events  and  of  herself  as  if  she  were  familiar  with  all, 
and  that  she  simply  assented  in  a  way  to  convey  the  im- 
pression that  she  knew  everything.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
later  revelations  showed  that  at  this  second  interview  she 
was  playing  a  part.  She  did  know  my  name,^  and  there- 
fore of  course  the  character  of  my  profession.  But  it  is 
questionable  whether  she  had  any  real  knowledge  based 
on  past  professional  relations,  or  any  real  memory.  Both 
she  and  Sally  now  say  she  did  not.  She  now  explains  that 
from  the  professional  character  of  the  room,  the  drift  of 
my  questions,  and  my  attitude  towards  her,  she  was  able 
to  infer  much,  to  follow  the  leads  given,  and  to  avoid 
betraying  her  ignorance.      Not  being  subjected  at  this 

^  That  is,  all  about  her  life  when  B  I  was  iu  existence. 
2  Possibly  from  the  doorplate. 


interview  to  a  critical  psychological  examination,  as  after- 
wards was  done,  her  replies  to  questions,  if  they  were  not 
direct  fibs,  were  so  adroitly  framed  that  they  intentionally 
conveyed  the  idea  of  familiarity  with  and  knowledge  of 
the  subjects  in  question. 

It  was  only  later,  ^  when  I  made  a  thorough  investigation 
of  this  personality,  that  it  was  discovered  that  her  position 
was  much  like  that  of  some  one  who  had  dropped  from  the 
planet  Mars  and  found  herself  amongst  people  who  were 
complete  strangers  to  her,  and  with  whom  she  had  no 
sympathy  or  associations;  but  it  was  more  than  that,  for 
she  found  these  people  knowing  all  about  herself,  talking 
about  events  of  her  immediate  past  of  which  she  knew 
nothing,  and  yet  which  she  was  convinced  from  the  evi- 
dence must  be  true.  Determined  not  to  give  herself 
away,  she  cleverly  parried  dangerous  questions.  This 
meant  also  that  she  knew  nothing  of  herself  as  B  I  or  as" 
Sally,  and  therefore  was  ignorant  that  she  had  other  per- 
sonalities. She  believed  herself  the  sole  individuality  and 
that  she  had  no  other  life.  This  is  an  important  fact  to 
keep  in  mind  if  the  psychological  situation  is  to  be  under- 
stood. She  soon  came  to  be  known  as  B  IV,  and  by  this 
title  it  will  be  convenient  to  speak  of  her  now.  From  the 
time  of  her  first  appearance  she  kept  changing  places  with 
the  other  two  personalities,  but  knew  nothing  of  what 
was  done  by  either  of  them.  She  was  ignorant  of  the 
places  and  persons  associated  with  their  lives.  My  office, 
for  instance,  as  has  just  been  stated,  was  strange  to  her; 
and  many  persons  with  whom  she  found  herself  in  friendly 
relations  she  looked  upon  as  total  strangers.  She  would 
lose  her  way  in  the  streets,  and  often  wandered  about 
hopelessly,  disliking  to  ask  her  way  and  exhibit  her  igno- 
rance. Consequently,  to  inform  herself,  she  was  obliged 
to  resort  to  guessing,  inferring,  and  "fishing."     She  was 

1  Chapter  XIV. 

THE  BIRTH  OF   B   IV,    ''  THE  IDIOT "  181 

keenly  alert  for  every  clew,  and  extraordinarily  clever  in 
"catching  on."  Sally,  who  became  informer,  noticed  all 
this  and  had  no  patience  with  her.^ 

Now,  it  should  be  stated  here  that,  although  Sally 
knows  2  everything  B  IV  does,  nevertheless  Sally  does  not 
know  B  IV 's  thoughts.  This  in  itself  shows  a  very  inter- 
esting psychological  difference  between  the  relations  of 
Sally  to  B  I  and  to  B  IV.  Sally  is  conscious  of  B  I's 
inmost  soul;  of  B  IV's  mind  she  knows  nothing;  she  can 
only  infer  B  IV's  thoughts  from  what  she  says  and  does. 
But  Sally  studied  B  IV  closely,  and  arrived  herself  at  the 
conclusion  that  B  IV,  in  spite  of  her  pretensions,  knew 
nothing  of  the  events  of  the  past  few  years  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  life,  but  was  always  "fishing"  for  information 
and  guessing.  In  her  astonishment,  —  for  Sally  could 
not  understand  the  meaning  of  this  new  personality,  —  she 
repeatedly  exclaimed,  ''  Why,  she  doesn't  know  anything! 
She  is  alwaj's  '  fishing  '  and  guessing!  " 

Sally  always  spoke  of  her  as  "She,"  as  she  did  of  B  I, 
and  similarly  refused  to  admit  the  identity  with  herself. 
It  took  Sally  a  long  time  to  get  accustomed  to  B  IV's 
ignorance,  for  she,  too,  at  first,  was  taken  in  by  the  new 
person's  pretences;  consequently  there  came  to  her  a  con- 
stant series  of  surprises  in  finding  that  the  new  one  was 

1  The  reader  will  probably  wonder,  as  I  did,  how  B  IV  happened  to  come 
to  my  office  as  she  previously  had  not  known  me,  and  did  not  know  where  I 
lived,  or  that  she  as  Miss  Beauchamp  was  under  my  care.  At  the  time  of 
her  visit,  supposing  that  she  had  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  past,  I  inferred 
that  she  had  come  to  fulfil  an  engagement  made  with  Miss  Beauchamp. 
Later,  after  her  ignorance  of  the  past  was  discovered,  I  elicited  the  fact  that 
it  was  B  I  who  had  started  to  make  the  call,  and  on  the  way  had  changed 
several  times,  back  and  forth,  with  Sally  and  B  IV.  B  IV  walked  on  in  a 
mechanical  sort  of  way  without  any  particular  knowledge  of  what  she  was 
going  to  do.  It  was  B  I  who  had  rung  the  door  bell,  changing  on  entering 
the  house  to  B  IV,  then  back  again  to  B  I  on  the  staircase,  finally  entering 
the  room  as  B  IV. 

^  It  is  not  necessary,  at  this  time,  to  inquire  whether  her  knowledge 
came  to  her  directly  as  a  subconsciousness,  or  afterwards  as  a  memory  while 
an  alternating  personality.     (Compare  Chapter  IX.) 


ignorant  of  a  large  part  at  least  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  past 
life,  and  of  all  the  present  when  B  I  and  Sally  were  on 
the  stage.  Watching  her  intently,  she  found  her  doing 
and  saying  things  that  were  incompatible  with  a  knowl- 
edge of  such  periods,  and  also  found  that  her  remarks 
were  largely  based  on  the  "fishing"  and  guessing.  Nor 
could  Sally  understand  why  B  IV  did  not  know.  When 
at  last  Sally  discovered  the  new  person's  ignorance  and 
her  pretences,  her  contempt  for  her  became  unbounded. 
She  dubbed  her  the  "Idiot,"  and  by  this  name  B  IV  was 
known  for  a  long  time.  I  mention  this  to  emphasize  the 
ignorance  of  B  IV  in  regard  to  her  immediate  surroundings, 
and  to  the  facts  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  life.  But  later, 
when  the  opportunity  offered  to  make  a  study  of  her,  it 
turned  out  that  this  ignorance  was  not  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's whole  life  but  only  of  the  past  few  years.  So 
that  at  some,  as  yet  undetermined,  period,  her  memory 
ceased  for  eveiything,  and  began  again  on  the  night  of 
June  7,  1899.  As  B  IV  did  not  know  of  B  I  or  Sally, 
there  were,  of  course,  gaps  in  her  memory,  corresponding 
to  the  times  when  the  other  two  members  of  the  family 
were  present,  and  B  IV  showed  great  acuteness  in  trying 
to  find  out  what  happened  at  such  times. 

It  was  not  as  easy  as  it  would  seem  to  be  to  determine 
the  reality  of  this  amnesia.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not 
feel  sure  that  she  was  conscious  of  the  gaps,  and  that  one 
period  of  consciousness  did  not  seem  to  her  to  run  into 
another,  in  spite  of  the  interval  of  oblivion ;  for  our  new 
friend  resented  as  an  impertinence  all  inquiry  into  her 
private  affairs.  Her  attitude  was  perfectly  intelligible. 
She  found  herself  suddenly  surrounded  by  strangers,  who 
advised,  directed,  and  controlled  her  life  by  some  appar- 
ently occult  power  (though  it  was  really  through  B  I  and 
Sally).  One  of  these  impertinent  strangers,  myself,  most 
inquisitively  pried  into  her  thoughts  and  directed  her  life. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  IV,   "  THE  IDIOT "  183 

She  was  quick-tempered  (Sally  called  it  a  "  nasty  temper  "), 
and  this  surveillance  irritated  her.  Indeed  she  not  only 
objected  to  any  interference,  but  resented  it  as  an  imperti- 
nence. I  must  confess  that,  from  her  point  of  view,  there 
was  much  to  justify  her  attitude,  and  one  can  hardly  blame 
her  when  her  strange  situation  is  kept  in  mind.  She 
determined  that  submit  she  would  not,  and  so  did  every- 
thing in  her  power  to  foil  inquiry. ^  She  refused  to  admit 
the  gaps  in  her  memory  and  declared  that  she  knew  every- 
thing. I  mention  all  this  here  to  show  the  difficulties 
besetting  this  study.  Every  interview  during  the  early 
months  of  B  IV's  life  began  with  tiresome  sparring.  Yet 
it  was  not  difficult  to  convict  her  of  ignorance  by  a  few 
test  questions  aDout  her  doings  when  B  I  or  Sally  was  in 
the  flesh.  After  quibbling,  evading,  inferring,  and  guess- 
ing, she  would  break  down  and  confess  she  did  not  know; 
and  this  was  the  fact. 

But  whatever  the  memory  of  the  "Idiot"  for  the  facts 
of  her  life  as  B  I,  it  was  easy  to  show  that  our  oldtime 
friend  knew  nothing  regarding  the  "Idiot."  The  memory 
of  B  I  was  absolutely  blank  for  everything  that  occurred, 
everything  said  and  done  in  this  new  state.  For  a  long 
time  she  never  had  a  glimmer  of  a  suspicion  that  there  was 
anybody  beside  herself  and  Sally;  and,  indeed,  imagined 
that  when  she  was  in  this  new  state  of  consciousness  she 
had  simply  "lost  time,"  and  had  been  masquerading  as 
Sally.  In  fact,  it  too  often  happened  that  later  Sally  got 
the  credit  or  discredit  for  many  acts  of  which  she  was 

To  summarize  briefly  the  results  of  later  long-continued 
study,  B  IV  had  individual  peculiarities  of  character,  of 
disposition,  of  tastes,  of  habits,  of  memory,  and  of  phy- 
sique.    Her  physiological   reactions  to  the   environment, 

1  She  later  analyzed  and  wrote  out  for  me  an  account  of  her  mental  atti- 
tude at  this  time.     See  Chapter  XIV,  p.  244. 


and  her  mental  acquisitions,  too,  were  in  some  respects 
different.  Her  state  of  health  was  different  from  that  of 
B  I.  She  was  much  more  normal,  more  healthy  in  mind 
and  in  body  than  was  Miss  Beauchamp.  She  was  without 
aboulia,  had  more  self-control,  more  courage,  less  reserve, 
and  in  sum  and  substance,  less  and  more  of  a  number  of 
peculiarities  not  difficult  to  describe,  but  which  I  prefer  to 
let  appear  in  connection  with  later  phenomena. 

Thus  the  new  mental  condition  exhibited  by  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  clearly  shown  to  be  a  personality,  and  was 
rightfully  given  the  title  of  B  IV. 
r    The  relation  of  the  different  personalities  then  to  one 
/  another  was  this:  B  I  knew  nothing  of  either  of  the  other 
I   two  personalities;  B  IV  knew  apparently  something,  but    1 
j    really  nothing  directly,  beyond  scrappy  isolated  memories,    I 
I    of  B  I  and  nothing  of  B  III;  B  III  knew  all  about  the   I 

I  acts  of  the  other  two,  but  the  thoughts  of  B  1  only.  J 

And  so  it  came  about  that,  from  this  time  on,  three  per- 
sonalities, instead  of  two,  kept  changing  with  one  another. 
The  social  complications  became  at  times  hopeless.  The 
length  of  time  when  each  personality  would  be  in  existence 
wwiid  yary.froma  few  minutes  to  several  hours  or  days. 
Sometimes  two  would  hold  the  field  for  several  days,  when 
the  third  would  appear.  On  one  occasion  B  I  was  absent, 
or  "  dead, "  as  Sally  called  it,  for  a  month.  I  must  defer 
to  another  chapter  all  but  a  reference  to  the  extraordinary 
adventures  and  misunderstandings  of  these  three  persons, 
brought  about  in  part  by  the  ignorance  of  Miss  Beauchamp 
and  the  "Idiot"  of  each  other,  and  the  consequent  conflict 
of  their  plans  and  doings;  in  part  by  the  difference  in 
character  of  all  three;  and  in  part  by  the  mischievousness 
of  Sally,  who  concocted  a  little  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 
of  her  own,  and  as  Puck,  with  a  little  dash  of  lago,  played 
her  pranks  on  both.  Some  of  these  adventures  were 
laughable,  and  some  tragic. 

THE  BIRTH  OF  B  IV,    "THE  IDIOT"  185 

Thus  a  new  problem  had  been  brought  into  the  situation 
which  was  this:  Up  to  June  7,  1899,  we  had  apparently 
Miss  Beauchamp,  neurasthenic  and  unstable,  it  is  true,  but 
still  the  primary  personality,  and  a  second  person  known 
as  Sally,  who  may  be  termed  a  secondary  personality. 
Now  a  third  one  had  come,  more  normal  in  some  respects 
than  Miss  Beauchamp.  Who  was  she?  —  and  for  that 
matter  who  was  who,  and  which  was  the  Real  Miss  Beau- 
champ, or  was  any  one  of  the  family  the  real  one?  The 
normality  of  B  IV  threw  suspicion  on  the  identity  of  our 
Miss  Beauchamp,  the  one  whom  we  had  known  so  long. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  our  Miss  Beauchamp,  the  saint, 
was  not  real?  The  thought  was  startling.  But  the  firet 
idea  to  suggest  itself  was  that  the  new  person  was  B  II, 
who  had  of  late  largely  dropped  out  of  sight.  If  so,  she 
was  in  a  more  highly  developed  state.  But  various  con- 
siderations at  once  disposed  of  this  idea.  Sally,  when 
questioned,  asserted  most  positively  that  B  IV  was  not 
B  II,  and  gave  various  reasons  for  this  assertion,  the  most 
cogent  being  that  Sally  knew  nothing  of  the  new  person- 
ality's thoughts,  although  she  knew  all  about  those  of  B  II. 
More  than  this,  B  IV,  unlike  B  II,  knew  nothing  of  B  I. 
Clearly,  therefore,  they  could  not  be  the  same  personal- 
ity. ^  Eliminating  this  theory  there  did  not  seem  to  be 
any  law  or  order  in  the  psychological  developments.  The 
question  was  what  relation  did  the  different  personalities 
bear  to  one  another.  Which  was  the  Real  Miss  Beau- 
champ? And  there  was  the  second  important  question, 
What  was  it  that  had  brought  them  into  being?  or  at 
least,  What  had  happened  that  afternoon  to  bring  the 
Idiot.  The  answer  to  this  latter  question  I  was  not  des- 
tined to  learn  for  some  months,  and  then  it  was  found  to 
be  bound  up  with  the  mystery  underlying  this  whole  case. 

^  At  a  later  period  I  was  able  to  bring  both  B  II  and  B  IV  as  distinct 
dtates,  and  then  it  was  found  that  B  IV  knew  nothing  of  B  II. 


With  the  exception  of  Sally,  all  seemed  higgledy-piggledy. 
Unless  law  and  order  could  be  shown  to  govern  the  psy- 
chical phenomena  they  were  incomprehensible,  and  intel- 
ligent therapeusis  was  impossible. 

As  has  just  been  intimated,  close  observation  of  B  IV 
soon  awakened  the  suspicion  that  it  was  she  who  was  the 
original  and  true  Miss  Beauchamp,  who,  for  some  unex- 
plained reason,  had  disappeared  at  some  time  in  the  past, 
and  had  only  reappeared  for  the  first  time  on  the  night 
~oT  June  seventh.  Many  cases  of  this  kind  are  known. 
For  instance,  the  case  of  Reverend  Ansel  Bourne  may  be 
mentioned,  as  it  was  carefull}'^  studied  and  investigated  by 
Prof.  William  James  and  Dr.  Richard  Hodgson.  The 
reverend  gentleman  awoke  one  day  to  find  himself  living 
under  the  name  of  Brown  in  a  country  town  in  Penn- 
sylvania. Here  he  had  been  living  two  months,  keep- 
ing a  small  shop  which  he  had  opened.  On  coming  to 
himself,  he  did  not  know  where  he  was  or  how  he  had  got 
there.  It  was  proved  that  two  months  previously  a  sud- 
den change  of  personality  had  occurred,  and  that  he  had 
wandered  from  his  home  in  Rhode  Island  to  this  town  in 
Pennsylvania,  where  he  had  since  been  living.  His  mem- 
ory in  his  normal  state  was  a  complete  blank  for  this  period 
of  his  secondary  personality. 

This  hypothesis  —  that  B  IV,  like  Mr.  Bourne,  was  the 
real  self  —  would  explain  why  I  and  others  were  strangers 
to  her,  and  also  why  she  was  not  familiar  with  many  facts 
of  her  life  and  with  her  surroundings.  Possibly,  if  the 
circumstances  of  her  disappearance  were  known,  they 
might  explain  her  peculiar  delusions  on  the  night  of  her 
awakening.  But  at  this  time  there  was  little  to  make  this 
idea  more  than  a  hypothesis.  If  it  were  true,  then  it 
would  follow  that  B  I,  Miss  Beauchamp,  was  nothing  but 
a  pathological  entity,  a  somnambulist  perhaps,  having  no 
right  or  title  to  existence,  and  must  be  made  to  disappear. 



DURING  the  following  summer  B  IV  came  and  went, 
changing  places  with  Sally  and  Miss  Beauchamp  as 
in  a  stage  comedy.  The  complications  had  been  bad 
enough  when  there  were  only  two  persons,  but  now  that 
there  were  three,  the  situations  became  wofuUy  tangled. 
I  saw  nothing  of  any  of  them  during  July  and  August, 
though  in  frequent  correspondence  ^  with  Miss  Beauchamp 
and  Sally,  but  I  learned  afterwards  of  their  doings.  A 
pretty  mess  they  made  of  it,  each  playing  her  own  game 
regardless  of  the  others.  Poor  Miss  Beauchamp  was  in 
despair,  and  got  into  a  hopeless  state  of  mind  not  to  be 
wondered  at.  Slie  had  not  only  "  lost  much  time  "  —  the 
greater  part  of  the  summer,  in  fact  —  but  had  also  lost  a 
number  of  valuables,  including  some  rings,  a  necklace,  a 
watch,  and  several  borrowed  books.  She  had  written  un- 
consciously to  Jones  letters  which  put  her  in  false  positions, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  usual  flood  of  letters  to  herself  (from 
Sally,  of  course).  To  cap  the  climax,  she  learned  from  one 
of  Sally's  letters  that  she  had  borrowed  quite  a  sum  of 
money  and  had  promptly  lost  it.  Miss  Beauchamp,  of 
course,  was  in  the  dark  about  the  way  all  this  had  happened, 
and  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  her  valuables.  Whatever 
meagre  information  she  had  came  from  Sally's  letters.     In 

1  The  nnmeroDS  letters  received  were  from  B  I  and  B  III  only,  —  a  fact 
of  some  significance.  B  IV  never  wrote  me  during  the  summer:  our  ac- 
quaintance was  too  new  and  formal  for  correspondence,  being  limited  to  a 
couple  of  interviews  not  of  her  seeking.  Naturally,  therefore,  she  refrained 
from  bringing  her  affairs  to  me,  nor  did  she  want  my  interference. 


her  anxiety  for  news  she  had  sought  Dr.  Hodgson's  help, 
under  the  natural  assumption  that  Sally  was  the  culprit. 
It  was  again  the  old  story  of  a  bad  name,  for  she  did  not 
realize  that  there  were  now  in  the  family  besides  herself 
two  others,  instead  of  one. 

It  was  through  the  aid  of  Sally  and  B  IV  that  the  snarl 
of  events  was  unravelled  and  the  plot  explained.  To  lose 
the  money  which  had  to  be  repaid  and  which  she  could  ill 
afford  to  lose  was  bad  enough,  but  it  was  galling  to  have 
been  put  into  such  a  false  position.  All  this  led  to  a  series 
of  adventures  which  had  an  amusing  side,  and  which  will 
be  told  presently.  It  was  B  IV  who  had  borrowed  the 
money,  and  it  was  also  B  IV  who  had  lost  a  ring  which 
Miss  Beauchamp  treasured,  wearing  it  on  a  chain  around 
her  neck.  One  day,  while  sitting  on  the  rocks  by  the  sea, 
B  IV  was  absentmindedly  fingering  the  chain;  it  came 
apart  and  ring  and  chain  fell  into  the  water,  where  they 
could  not  be  recovered.  The  other  rings  were  not  lost,  as 
Miss  Beauchamp  supposed,  although  she  (B  I)  could  not 
find  them ;  this  was  owing  to  negative  hallucinations. 
They  were  literally  directly  under  her  nose  —  yet,  owing  to 
this  psychical  phenomenon,  she  could  not  see  or  feel  them. 
Sally  had  strung  them  for  safety  on  a  ribbon  about  her 
neck,  where  they  were  later  found.  The  borrowed  books 
Sally  —  this  time  acting  as  guardian  angel  —  had  sent  to 
the  Storage  Warehouse  for  safe-keeping,  but  had  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  acquaint  Miss  Beauchamp  with  the 
fact.  But  it  was  B  IV  who  had  carried  on  with  Jones  the 
correspondence  which,  as  it  directly  reversed  the  attitude 
in  certain  matters  which  B  I  had  taken  before  B  IV  came, 
particularly  annoyed  the  former. 

Then  Miss  Beauchamp  had  disappeared  for  weeks  during 
the  summer,  leaving  Sally  and  B  IV  to  alternate  with  each 
other  and  to  run  the  campaign.  B  IV  managed  the  family 
affairs  according  to  her  own   ideas,  which   agreed   with 


those  of  Miss  Beauchamp  about  as  well  as  Katherine 
agreed  with  Petruchio.  Then  Sally  would  just  drop  a  line 
to  B  I  that  she  miglit  know  what  IV  had  done,  if  it  hap- 
pened to  be  particularly  galling  to  I's  feelings. 

Finally,  Miss  Beauchamp  conceived  the  project  of  going 
to  New  York  to  recoup  her  financial  losses.  The  adven- 
tures which  followed  from  her  attempt  to  carry  out  this 
plan  are  amusing.  She  actually  got  as  far  as  New  Haven, 
as  will  be  presently  narrated.  The  following  are  the  de- 
tails of  the  observation  showing: 

Spontaneous  Negative  Hallucinations.  [Notebook,  October^ 
1899.]  "  Apropos  of  the  rings,  some  very  unusual  phenomena, 
of  the  order  of  spontaneous  negative  hallucinations,  as  well  as  the 
history  of  the  simultaneous  action  of  two  consciousnesses,  were 
brought  to  light  to-day.  Miss  Beauchamp  had  accused  Sally  of 
having  taken  some  rings  which  she  cherished.  Sally  explained 
in  her  own  defence  that  all  the  rings  were  not  lost ;  that  '  She  ' 
thought  she  had  lost  her  rings  but  hadn't;  'She'  had  lost 
one  old  ring  which  was  attached  to  a  chain  around  her  neck. 
'The  other  two  rings  are  not  lost,'  said  Sally,  'but  I  can't 
make  her  see  them.  I  have  put  them  on  her  finger,  but  she 
won't  see  them,  Dr.  Prince ;  and  I  have  taken  her  hand  and 
made  her  take  hold  of  the  rings,  but  she  won't  feel  them. 
They  are  round  her  neck  now  on  a  ribbon.  I  have  made  her 
take  the  rings  in  her  fingers  while  she  is  here  and  I  am 
"  gone,"  and  I  have  put  them  on  her  finger ;  but  it  is  no  use,  she 
won't  see  them.' 

"  B  III  was  examined  very  closely  on  this  episode,  with  a  view 
to  obtaining  light  on  the  relationship  between  I  and  III.  If 
B  Ill's  statements  could  be  established  they  would  show  that: 

"  (1)  B  I  had  negative  hallucinations  induced  by  the  strong 
auto-suggestion  that  the  rings  were  lost. 

"  (2)  B  III  as  a  coexisting  subconsciousness  had  tried 
through  a  logical  process  of  reasoning  to  make  B  I  see  the  rings  ; 
and  that  as  a  subconsciousness  Sally  had  '  taken  her  hand ' 
and  tried  to  make  her  feel  the  rings.  This  meant  that  Sally 
had  thought  and  acted  like  a  person  who  was  in  existence  con- 


temporaneously  with  B  I.  There  would  have  been  a  coexisting 
motive,  a  coexisting  desire,  a  coexisting  process  of  reasoning, 
and  a  co-action.  This  meant  two  coexisting  real  personalities, 
that  is,  a  primary  and  a  subconsciousness." 

Introspective  evidence  of  this  kind  of  course  cannot  be 
confirmed  experimentally,  but  the  negative  hallucinations 
could  be  demonstrated. 

"  B  I  was  now  awakened  with  Sally's  consent,  and  was  in- 
formed about  the  rings  as  follows :  '  You  think  you  have  lost 
your  rings.'  She  assented.  '  Well,  you  have  n't.  I  know 
where  two  of  them  are.  The  third,  the  one  that  was  on  the 
chain,  is  lost,  but  I  can  put  my  hand  on  the  others  whenever  I 

"  '  Can  I  find  them?'  she  inquired. 

"  In  reply  I  bade  her  unloosen  her  collar.  About  her  neck 
was  tied  a  ribbon,  and  on  the  ribbon  were  the  two  rings,  as 
Sally  had  said.  I  made  every  effort  to  have  Miss  Beauchamp 
see  the  rings  and  ribbon,  to  hear  the  click  when  they  were  struck 
together,  and  to  feel  them  with  her  fingers,  but  without  result. 
She  simply  could  not  see,  hear,  or  feel  them,  and  at  first  thought 
me  joking.  Though  it  was  sought  by  suggestion  to  dispel  the 
hallucination,  the  only  effect  of  persisting  was  to  make  her  think 
she  was  being  guyed.  After  a  while  she  assented  to  the  sug- 
gestion, but  it  was  evident  that  she  did  so  to  agree  with  me. 
Then,  in  response  to  my  insistence,  '  Well,  you  say  I  see  them, 
and  I  am  willing  to  say  I  do,  if  you  wish  it,  but  I  don't  see 
them.'  I  pulled  the  ribbon  hard  enough  to  jerk  her  head  and  to 
make  her  lose  her  balance.  At  this  she  remonstrated,  '  Don't 
jerk  my  head.' 

"  '  How  can  I  jerk  your  head  if  I  have  nothing  in  my  hand 
[the  ribbon],  as  you  insist?  In  that  case  there  can  be  no 

"  '  I  see  your  hand  move  so,  and  I  feel  my  head  go  so ;  '  and 
from  this  she  inferred  some  kind  of  hypnotic  connection,  with- 
out understanding  its  nature." 

Spontaneous  phenomena  of  this  sort,  of  the  intensity 
manifested  in  this  observation  and  which  cannot  be  dis- 


pelled  by  external  suggestion  or  by  the  subject's  voluntary 
attention,  are,  I  believe,  unique.  Miss  Beauchamp  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  the  rings  suspended  from  her 
neck,  while  I  pulled  the  ribbon  and  dangled  the  rings  be- 
fore her  eyes  in  the  vain  effort  to  make  her  see  them.  Un- 
der the  dominant  idea  that  they  were  lost,  heightened  by 
the  emotional  effect  —  worry  and  intense  regret  —  that  this 
idea  had  caused,  she  could  not  see  what  was  under  her  nose. 
When  one  remembers  that  it  was  one  of  her  own  selves 
who,  in  distrust  of  the  primary  self's  absentmindedness,  had 
attached  the  rings  to  the  ribbon  for  safe-keeping,  the  situa- 
tion seems  curious,  to  say  the  least.  The  study  of  negative 
hallucinations  of  this  sort  is  interesting  from  the  light  that 
it  throws  on  some  of  the  ordinary  phenomena  of  absent- 
mindedness,  such  for  example  as  the  time-honored  instances 
of  people,  generally  professors,  who  cannot  find  their  eye- 
glasses which  lie  on  the  table  under  their  eyes. 

The  systematized  anesthesia  for  the  rings  differed  in  no 
way  from  that  previously  noted  in  the  experuuent  with  the 
metal  rod  (p.  67),  excepting  that  the  former  was  sponta- 
neous, and  in  this  respect  was  exceptional,  considering  the 
number  of  senses  involved  and  the  intensity  and  persistence 
of  the  (negative)  hallucinations.  The  blindness  was  syste- 
matized in  that  it  embraced  only  a  special  system  or  group 
of  visual  images,  namely,  the  rings  and  ribbon  about  her 
neck.  The  same  is  true  of  the  deafness  for  tlie  sound  of 
the  rings  clicking  against  one  another,  and  of  the  tactile 
anesthesia  when  the  rings  were  touched.  The  subject  was 
anesthetic  for  any  sensory  impression  associated  with  tlie 
rings.  For  all  else  there  was  no  impairment  of  sight,  hear- 
ing, or  touch.  In  the  experimental  instance  of  the  rod,  the 
cause  of  the  anesthesia  was  a  suggestion  from  without. 
In  the  spontaneous  case  of  the  rings  it  was  a  suggestion 
from  within,  —  an  auto-suggestion.  The  intense  belief 
that  the   rings   were   lost,  and  the   consequent  emotion, 


induced  the  anesthesia  in  the  personal  consciousness  of  B  I. 
That  the  images  were  formed  nevertheless,  although  they 
remained  isolated,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  not  only  Sally 
but  B  II  remembered  having  seen  the  rings.  "  /  did  not 
see  the  rings  at  the  time"  ^  said  B  II,  "  but /remember  them 
nowy  The  images  as  memories  became  united  in  hypnosis 
to  this  self. 

This  raises  the  question  which  was  asked  (p.  73),  but 
passed  over  when  discussing  systematized  anesthesia  in  a 
previous  chapter  (V).  Speaking  not  of  tliis  particular 
case,  but  of  systematized  anesthesia  in  general,  —  What 
becomes  of  the  isolated  images  ?  Do  they  remain  isolated 
by  themselves,  or  are  they  united  to  some  other  conscious- 
ness sufficiently  complex  to  form  a  second  personality 
capable  of  personal  perceptions?  By  this  I  mean  a  con- 
sciousness that  can  say,  "  /  see,  /  hear,  /  feel."  From  here 
on  the  problem  becomes  complicated  and  can  only  be 
touched  upon  in  this  place.  The  answer  must  vary  with 
individual  cases,  depending  upon  the  degree  of  dissociation 
of  consciousness  present. 

(1)  In  mildly  dissociated  cases  the  images  probably  con- 
stitute the  whole  of  the  secondary  consciousness,  and 
simply  are  isolated  states  without  sufficient  complexity  to 
be  described  as  a  personality  or  personal  perception,  or  to 
justify  the  use  of  the  pronoun  I.  Such  a  condition  may  be 
observed  in  ordinary  absentmindedness.  When  an  object 
lying  under  the  nose  of  an  abstracted  individual  is  not 
seen,  we  call  it  absentmindedness,  which  really  correctly 
designates  the  condition.  The  mind  is  absent  or  dissoci- 
ated. "  Dissociated-miudedness  "  would  be  a  more  precise 
term.  When  a  pereon  in  such  a  condition  momentarily 
fails  to  see  his  spectacles  which  lie  on  the  table  before 
him,  he  has  a  negative  hallucination.  But  the  spectacles 
are  seen  subconsciously,  which,  be  it  always  remembered, 

1  That  i8,  at  any  of  the  times  when  R  I  did  not  see  them. 


means  dissociated  images.  This  may  be  easily  proved  ex- 
perimentally. I  have  made  numerous  experiments  on  this 
point,  and  have  found  that  sounds  in  the  street,  voices, 
visual  images  of  passers-by,  or  surrounding  objects  which 
are  not  perceived  by  the  primary  personality,  nevertheless 
give  rise  to  dissociated  sensory  images,  and  thereby  to  a 
limited  doubling  of  consciousness.  When  absentmindedly 
we  do  not  hear  what  is  said,  see  what  is  going  on,  or  feel 
the  tickling  of  a  fly  on  the  skin,  the  apparently  unheard 
word,  the  unseen  object,  and  the  unfelt  touch,  are  really 
heai-d,  seen,  and  felt.  It  is  only  necessary  to  hypnotize  the 
subject  to  demonstrate  the  fact.  When  the  subject  is 
hypnotized,  the  hypnotic  self  remembers  and  is  able  to 
describe  these  sensory  experiences.  But  from  my  obser- 
vations I  believe  that  these  sensory  images  —  the  spec- 
tacles in  the  supposititious  case  —  remain  isolated,  and  that 
there  is  no  self  —  subconscious  self  —  to  which  they  be- 
come attached  to  form  a  personality  and  allow  personal 

While  the  fundamental  psycho-physiological  principle  of 
absentmindedness  is  dissociation,  as  is  easily  proved,  never- 
theless Dr.  Janet  is  in  error,  in  my  judgment,  in  identifying 
hysterical  anesthesia  with  the  normal  state  of  distraction. 
Both  are  forms  of  dissociation,  but  all  forms  of  dissocia- 
tion are  not  distraction.  Slee)),  trance,  epileptoid  states^ 
hypnosis,  etc.,  are  forms  of  dissociation,  but  they  are  not 
absentmindedness.  The  demonstration  of  dissociation  and 
doubling  of  consciousness  in  absentmindedness  is  of  great 
psychological  importance,  for  it  means  that  dissociation  is 
a  normal  process,  and  that  there  must  exist  some  psycho- 
physiological mechanism  for  bringing  it  about.  Here,  too, 
it  may  be  pointed  out  that  concentration  of  attention  may- 
be regarded  as  a  form  of  volitional  absentmindedness  and 
probably  makes  use  of  the  same  apparatus.  Abnormal  dis- 
sociation may  be  only  a  perversion  of  this  same  apparatus. 



(2)  In  more  extensively  dissociated  cases,  such  as  the 
profounder  forms  of  hysteria,  there  may  be  a  secondary 
consciousness  of  such  complexity  as  to  constitute  a  verita- 
ble personality.  With  this  secondary  consciousness  the 
sensory  images  of  anesthesia  (dissociated  from  the  primary 
personality)  may  be  united,  and  such  a  subconsciousness 
could  veritably  say,  "/see,"  "/hear."  Dr.  Barrow's  case 
of  Miss  Anna  Winsor  ("  Old  Stump ")  was  of  this  type. 
"While  the  patient  was  engaged  in  conversation,  the  sub- 
consciousness, making  use  of  the  right  (paralyzed)  hand, 
called  "  Old  Stump,"  wrote  poetry,  drew  pictures,  etc. 
During  an  attack  of  delirium  it  wrote  a  prescription. 

In  the  case  of  Miss  Beauchamp  and  the  negative  hallu- 
cinations of  the  rings,  the  conditions  are  very  complex.  A 
secondary  consciousness  of  considerable  extent  (Sally) 
already  existed.  The  dissociated  sensory  images  of  the 
rings  formed  a  part  of  this  consciousness,  which,  if  her 
statement  be  accepted,  could  say,  "  /  saw  them."  There 
was  subconscious  personal  perception.  This  is  in  accord 
with  numerous  observations  made  in  this  case.  In  contrast 
with  Sally's  personal  perception,  B  II  could  only  say:  "2 
did  not  see  the  rings,  at  the  time,  but  /  remember  them 
now."  The  images  apparently  belonged  to  more  than  one 
subconscious  group. 

Sometimes  Miss  Beauchamp's  negative  hallucinations 
were  caused,  not  by  the  intensity  of  her  own  ideas,  but  by 
the  mischievousness  of  Sally,  who  deliberately  and  wilfully 
would  act  by  "willing"  on  Miss  Beauchamp's  conscious- 
ness, and  prevent  her  seeing  what  was  before  her.  In- 
stances of  this  kind  also  occurred  about  this  time,  as  will 
presently  appear. 

To  return  to  the  adventures  of  the  trio :  The  part  which 
B  IV  played  in  demoralizing  Miss  Beauchamp's  life  be- 
comes intelligible  if  it  is  kept  in  mind  that  she  knew  noth- 
ing of   Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts  or  feelings;  nothipg 


about  her  life  during  late  years ;  nothing  of  her  ties  or 
duties  assumed ;  and  that  necessarily  she  knew  nothing  of 
her  wishes,  intentions,  or  relations  with  people  and  events. 
For  her  there  was  no  other  ego  but  herself.  Naturally 
therefore  she  was,  from  her  own  point  of  view,  a  free  lance 
to  do  as  she  pleased.  And  in  the  doing  she  went  back 
in  her  mind  to  the  life  of  six  years  before,  which  she 
imagined  herself  to  be  still  living.  Yet  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  later,  when  she  did  learn  something  of  her 
other  self,  she  refused  to  show  any  consideration  for  any 
one's  wishes  but  her  own.  She  was  such  a  different  char- 
acter, in  tastes,  points  of  view,  opinions,  and  modes  of 
thought,  that  whatever  she  did  would  necessarily  be  re- 
pugnant to  Miss  Beauchamp.  She  had  no  affihations, 
apparently  cared  for  nobody,  and  had  no  sense  of  responsi- 
bility to  any  one.  Add  to  this  an  imtable  temper,  which 
made  her  angry  whenever  restrained  or  placed  under  cir- 
cumstances which  she  did  not  enjoy,  and  we  have  the  key 
to  her  conduct. 

Sally  meanwhile  was  enjoying  it  all,  and  did  not  miss 
any  opportunity  to  stick  pins  into  both  the  others.  She 
wrote  them  letters,  taking  pains  to  let  poor  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  especially,  know  what  terrible  things  she  had  been 
doing,  calling  her  all  sorts  of  names,  and  magnifying  the 
enormity  of  her  sins.  Miss  Beauchamp  took  it  all  au  pied 
de  la  lettre,  imagined  much  more,  and  was  very  unhappy. 
A  feeling  of  terror  was  created  in  her  mind,  by  not  know- 
ing what  she  might  have  done  when  she  was  "  gone,"  and 
by  imagining  from  Sally's  lago-like  letters  all  sorts  of 
possibilities.  The  times  when  she  disappeared  increased 
in  lengtli  and  frequency,  until,  finally,  she  was  "  gone " 
for  a  month,  —  from  the  end  of  July  to  the  last  week  in 

The  following  letter  of  July  27  hints  at  her  state  of 
mind : 


"  I  am  glad  to  hear  from  you,  but  I  can't  imagine  what  the 

note  is  to  which  you  refer,  for  I  have  n't  written  J ^  this 

summer,  and  yet  there  is  no  one  else  whom  you  would  be  at  all 
likely  to  confuse  with  him.  I  am  sorry.  Perhaps  it  is,  as  you 
say,  something  written  by  my  other  self,  or  one  of  my  other 
selves,  for,  if  '  Sally  '  is  to  be  believed,  there  are  several.  About 
seeing  you  —  you  ai'e  awfully  good,  but  I  cannot  come  just  yet, 
much  as  I  need  and  would  like  to.  I  am  too  nervous  and  would 
only  annoy  you.  But  I  do  wish  you  would  tell  me  if  there  is 
any  one  to  whom  I  could  appeal  in  case  of  emergency  while  you 
are  away  —  any  one  who  would  not  think  me  wholly  mad,  or 
who  would  in  the  least  understand  what  to  do.  I  am  afraid 
to  be  so  entirely  alone.     As  for  my  plans,  they  are  in  a  most 

chaotic  state,  I  am  sorry  to  say.     I  hoped  to  remain  in all 

summer,  but  it  was  impossible,  and  so  I  am  back  on St. 

for  the  present,  where  it  is  at  least  quiet,  as  there  is  no  one 
in  the  house  except  the  caretaker.  I  don't  know  how  long 
I  shall  be  here.  Do  you  know,  Dr.  Prince,  I  have  forgotten 
everything  —  absolutely  everything  that  I  learned  with  such 
difficulty  ^  during  this  last  year.  Will  it  come  back  to  me  again, 
do  you  think?  Please  tell  me.  And  if  it  does  n't,  what  shall  I 
do?  Don't  tell  Mrs.  X.,  —  don't  tell  any  one  yet.  Let  me  get 
a  little  used  to  it.  .  .  .  Hoping  I  have  not  taxed  your  patience 
too  severely,  I  remain,  believe  me," 

It  will  be  noticed  that  Sally  has  taken  pains  to  tell  her 
that  there  is  more  than  one  devil  inside  her,  but  as  yet  she 
does  not  thoroughly  realize  it.  The  acquisitions  she  has 
lost  are  the  ability  to  write  shorthand,  and  her  knowledge 
of  French  ^  and  other  foreign  languages. 

The  following  letter  was  received  from  Sally,  August  2, 
in  reply  to  one  of  mine  reproaching  her  for  breaking  the 
promises  which   she  had  given  not  to   tease  Miss   Beau- 

1  A  letter  written  by  IV  to  J ,  and  either  by  mistake  or  through  Sally, 

put  in  the  wrong  envelope  and  mailed  to  me. 

2  Referring  to  the  constant  alternation  of  personalities,  and  Sally's  destruc- 
tion of  the  notes  of  tlie  lectures,  etc.  This  amnesia  was  only  another  example 
of  dissociation  and  was  temporary. 

*  The  languages  had  been  learned  in  college,  but  shorthand  the  preceding 


champ.     What  she  says  is  literally  true  ;  she   could  not 
keep  promises  of  this  kind,  and  always  said  so. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  half  realize  how  very  unfair  you  are  to  me. 
It  is  n't  true  that  I  tell  lies  and  break  all  my  promises  and  have 
no  sense  of  honor.  You  know  it  is  n't  true.  I  have  never  lied  to 
you  except  concerning  one  thing,  and  that  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary —  absolutely,  really  —  and  I  think  even  you  would  forgive 
me  if  you  knew  all  about  it.  Nor  have  I  tried  to  deceive  you  ever, 
save  half  in  fun  when  I  wanted  you  to  think  me  Miss  Beau- 
champ  —  but  you  always  knew  at  once  that  I  was  n't.  As  for 
breaking  promises,  have  I  ever  broken  one  that  was  given  vol- 
untarily? When  you  wring  them  from  me  by  sheer  force  of 
arms,  and  I  tell  you,  even  as  I  give  them,  I  cannot  keep  them, 
it  seems  to  me  that  is  very  different.  Won't  you  make  the 
smallest  allowance  for  me,  Dr.  Prince  ?  I  cannot  bear  to  have 
you  speak  so. 

"  She  has  not  waked  up  at  all  since  Monday.  I  think  she 
is  really  dead. 

"P.  S.  Please  don't  be  cross  —  you  know  you  said  I  might 
write  if  I  chose,  and  this  is  n't  a  very  long  letter."  ^ 

There  is  a  point  to  which  it  may  be  worth  while  to  call 
attention  here.  In  her  letter  of  July  27  (page  196)  Miss 
Beauchamp  asked  if  there  was  not  some  one  to  whom  she 
could  go  for  help.  Dr.  Richard  Hodgson  had  kindly 
offered  to  stand  in  loco  parentis^  in  my  absence,  and  I  di- 
rected her  to  him.     On  August  22  she  writes  again  to  the 

1  The  difference  in  style  of  this  letter  from  that  of  her  usual  letters  is 
noticeable.  Now  and  then,  under  the  dominant  force  of  an  idea  or  feeling 
such  as  Miss  Beauchamp  might  have  had,  the  expression  of  her  thoughts 
took  on  a  form  which  might  have  been  used  by  the  primary  personality.  It 
was  the  same  with  the  facial  expression.  But  I  never  knew  her  to  exhibit 
the  sadness  and  weariness  of  B  I.  In  the  last  part  of  this  letter  Sally 
relapses  to  lier  old  style. 

2  To  Dr.  Hodgson  I  desire  to  express  my  gratitude  for  the  valuable  as- 
sistance whioh  he  rendered  in  the  practical  supervision  of  the  case  during  tlie 
earlier  period  of  this  study,  when  it  was  desirable  to  keep  Miss  Beauchamj) 
under  daily  observation.  Dr.  Hodgson  has  thus  had  an  opportunity  to  be- 
come personally  acquainted  with  the  different  personalities  and  to  continuously 
observe  them  during  long  periods  of  time. 


same  effect,  though  on  August  19,  and  on  several  occa- 
sions previously  she  had  gone  to  Dr.  Hodgson,  but  it  was 
in  the  chai-acter  of  Sally.  Miss  Beauchamp  did  not  know 
this,  for  she  had  disappeared  for  the  whole  or  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  preceding  four  weeks.  The  following  is  the 
letter  from  B  I  written  August  22 : 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry,  believe  me,  to  trouble  you  again,  but  I 
think  you  wrote  about  some  one  to  whom  I  could  go  in  case  of 
emergency.  I  need  that  some  one  now  —  very,  very  much  — 
but  unfortunately  I  have  forgotten  both  the  name  and  address 
you  gave  me.  Can  jou  send  it  again  ?  I  have  lost  weeks,  — 
whole  weeks  this  time.  What  does  it  avail  struggling  against 
it?     I  am  so  tired,  so  very  tired  !  " 

In  September  the  family  again  came  under  observation. 
It  had  just  had  an  adventure,  the  one  already  referred 
to,  which  was  the  outcome  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  project 
of  going  to  New  York.  This  is  worth  narrating,  as  it 
shows  how  the  different  members  of  the  family  played 
their  parts  and  lived  together,  as  well  as  the  individuality 
of  the  different  personalities.  The  family  altogether  was 
much  like  a  barometer  house  with  three  inmates  —  when 
one  was  out,  the  others  were  inside.  On  September  3 
Miss  Beauchamp  wrote  as  follows : 

"  I  shall  be  awfully  glad  to  see  you  any  time  you  wish  during 

the  next  few  days.     You  will  forgive  me?     I  have  been  doing 

the  most  dreadful  things  —  things  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of. 

.  .   .  Is  it  possible  or  credible  that  there  should  be  another  — 

I  hardly  know  what  to  call  it —  another  thing  like  '  Sally  '  ? 

"  P.  S.     Address Street."  ^ 

On  September  5  the  following  note  arrived  from  Sally, 
who  evidently  was  frightened  at  the  effect  which  all  these 
escapades  were  having  on  Miss  Beauchamp : 

1  This  letter  gave  a  different  address  from  the  usual  oue,  and  indicated 
that  her  residence  liad  been  changed.  , 


"  Won't  you  please  write  and  say  that  she  may  come  to- 
day? I  want  you  to — so  very  much.  I'm  afraid  she  is  go- 
ing to  be  really  ill,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do,  and  there 's  no 
one  here,  and  it's  perfectly  dreadful  altogether.  I  want  you  to 
come  to  Boston.  Please,  please  do.  Dr.  Prince.  I  won't  talk 
to  you  at  all,  and  I  'm  awfully  sorry  to  have  annoyed  you  with 
that  letter.     Truly  I  am." 

I  will  let  my  notebook  tell  the  story : 

September  ftth :  ^  "  To-day  Miss  Beauchamp  called  by  ap- 
pointment. She  was  in  much  distress,  discouraged,  and  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  end  the  whole  thing  afld  give  up  the  fight. 
She  said  that  she  was  mentally  worse,  having  lost  whole  weeks 
and  in  fact  the  greater  part  of  the  summer ;  that  she  had  done 
awful  things,  which  she  '  could  n't,'  that  is,  '  would  n't '  tell  me, 
and  evidently  has  been  getting  into  terrible  messes,  putting  her- 
self into  false  positions,  etc.,  etc.  She  appeared  distressed  by 
all  that  had  happened,  exhibited  some  aboulia  of  speech  and 
slight  stammering,  and  expressed  a  desire  to  commit  suicide, 
saying  that  nothing  else  was  left  for  her.  Moderately  nervous 
in  movement.  While  I  was  talking  to  her  she  changed  to  Sally, 
who  laughed  as  usual  over  the  tribulations  of  her  other  self,  but 
appeared  more  considerate  and  sympathetic  for  B  I  than  she 
had  ever  been  before.  Sally  disclaimed  being  responsible  for 
all  that  had  happened,  declaring  that  she  had  done  very  little, 
and  that  what  had  taken  place  was  not  her  fault.  When  ques- 
tioned closely  as  to  who  was  responsible,  she  was  clearly  puz- 
zled. It  was  the  'Idiot'  who  was  the  cause  of  the  trouble  ; 
that  was  clear  in  her  mind,  and  exculpated  herself.  But  who 
was  the  '  Idiot '?  She  could  give  no  explanation  of  this  point, 
nor  of  the  relationship  between  the  '  Idiot '  and  B  I.  It  was 
plain,  too,  that  the  'Idiot'  eould  not  be  identified  with  B  I. 
Nevertheless,  Sally  insisted,  '  There  are  not  three  of  us,  only 
two ' ;  but  how  it  was  that  B  I  became  the  '  Idiot,'  or  who  the 
'Idiot'  was,  etc.,  she  could  not  understand.    As  Sally  described 

1  It  was  at  this  and  subsequent  interviews  that  the  first  thorough  study  of 
B  IV  as  a  personality  was  made.  Up  to  this  time,  since  the  seventh  of 
June,  she  had  been  observed  only  twice. 


the  course  of  events,  her  attitude  was  that  of  one  who  had 
watched  with  relish  B  I  changing  to  B  IV  and  back  again, 
and  the  messes  in  which  they  became  involved,  much  as  one 
watches  a  play  upon  the  stage. 

"The  following  is  Sally's  account  of  the  New  Haven  ad- 
venture. Both  B  I  and  B  IV  corroborated  their  respective 
parts  in  the  affair,  so  that  this  narrative  is  supported  by  the 
testimony  of  the  whole  family.  There  is  in  addition  some 
documentary  evidence  in  the  form  of  a  telegram  sent  to  me 
from  New  Haven,  and  a  pawnbroker's  ticket  which  I  redeemed. 
Miss  Beauchamp,  being  unable  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of 
her  missing  property,  decided  that  she  would  go  to  New  York  to 
earn  some  money  for  the  purpose  of  paying  back  that  which 
had  been  borrowed.  Thereupon  B  IV  wrote  a  letter  to  Jones, 
telling  him  of  B  I's  intention.  At  this  point  in  the  narrative, 
Sally  paused  meditatively,  and  remarked  that  the  *  Idiot '  seemed 
to  know  some  things  and  not  to  know  others.  How  she  knew 
that  Miss  Beauchamp  was  going  to  New  York  Sally  could  not 
understand,  but '  anyhow  she  did.'  ^  The  reply  from  Jones  was 
received,  not  by  B  IV,  but  by  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  was  dis- 
tressed that  Jones  had  been  informed.  Jones  wrote  that  it  was 
not  safe  for  her  to  go  alone  to  New  York,  and  that  *  Anna ' 
must  go  with  her  as  chaperone.  Now  this  was  just  what  Miss 
Beauchamp  did  not  want.  So,  to  shorten  the  storj',  after  much 
difficulty  she  managed  to  give  '  Anna '  (who  had  joined  her  in 
Boston)  the  slip,  and  took  a  different  train  from  the  one  intended. 
For  some  reason  [which  my  notes  fail  to  give]  she  took  tickets 
to  New  Haven,  instead  of  to  New  York.  On  arrival  at  New 
Haven,  she  went  to  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Associa- 
tion, and  applied  to  the  matron  for  work,  saying  she  knew 
only  writing,  reading,   and  that  sort  of  thing.     The  matron 

1  Sally  pondered  upon  this  for  some  little  time.  It  was  probably  an  example 
of  what  was  occasionally  observed,  namely,  sort  of  memory-flashes  from  B  I's 
mind  into  that  of  B  IV.  They  were  generally  merely  isolated  facts  which  B 
IV  got  hold  of.  Phenomena  of  thi.s  kind  are  well  known  p.sychologically,  and 
are  based  on  established  laws.  These  scrappy  memories  used  to  puzzle  Sally. 
Later,  B  IV  devised  a  method  of  awakening  memories  of  B  I's  life.  The 
whole  was  an  interesting  .stndy,  although  made  difficult  by  the  fact  that  at 
first  B  IV  wonld  give  no  assistance.  The  phenomena  will  be  later  dis- 
cussed (Chapter  XV). 


asked  if  she  could  wait  on  table.  Miss  Beauchamp  thought 
she  could,  although  she  had  never  done  it.     So  a  place  was 

obtained  for  her  at  a  hotel  on Street,  kept  by  a  Mrs.  S. 

Her  stay  here  lasted  about  two  days,  and  was  varied  by  the 
'  Idiot,'  Sally,  and  Miss  Beauchamp  coming  and  going,  each 
bobbing  in  and  bobbing  out  in  the  most  confusing  manner. 
Sally  described  the  whole  adventure  and  the  different  scenes  in 
detail  with  a  great  deal  of  gusto  and  volubility,  speaking  so 
rapidly  that  it  was  difficult  to  follow  her,  and  seeming  to  enjoy 
the  complications  that  ensued,  and  the  different  things  that 
befell  the  different  personalities  by  the  unexpected  events  thrust 
upon  each.  All  went  well  until  the  '  Idiot '  suddenly  appeared 
and  found  herself  waiting  upon  table,  a  position  which  she 
looked  upon  with  the  utmost  disgust.  Nevertheless,  angry  and 
disgusted  as  she  was,  she  went  on  doing  the  work  for  a  time. 
Then  Miss  Beauchamp  and  Sally  would  each  come  in  turn.  '  I 
did  n't  like  to  work  either,'  said  Sally,  in  a  tone  of  superior 
virtue,  '  but  I  did  it.  B  I  did  n't  like  it,  but  did  it  because 
she  thought  she  could  earn  money.  The  "Idiot"  lost  her 
temper,'  Sally  continued,  '  and  stamped  her  foot  at  the  ele  ator 
boy.     She  has  a  nasty  temper.' " 

To  digress  for  a  moment :  the  difference  in  the  mental 
attitudes  of  the  different  personalities  towards  the  position 
in  which  they  were  placed  is  psychologically  interesting. 
The  attitude  of  B  I  was  that  of  penance,  of  meekness,  and 
of  resignation  to  a  duty  to  be  done  and  for  which  all  per- 
sonal feeling  was  to  be  sacrified.  Her  self-respect  and 
honor  compelled  her  to  do  it.  That  of  B  IV  was  rebel- 
liousness, unwillingness  to  acquiesce  in  the  conditions 
which  she  found,  or  to  accept  what  was  distasteful.  She 
awoke  to  find  herself  in  a  disagreeable  situation,  without 
knowing  the  why  or  the  wherefore,  a  situation  not  of  her 
choosing.  She  saw  no  good  reason  for  it,  and  rebelled. 
Sally  alone  found  amusement  and  variety.  To  her  it  was 
at  least  adventure,  which  she  loved,  and  she  was  able  to 
enjoy  the  discomfiture  of  the  others. 


"  Finally  the  *  Idiot '  would  n't  stand  it  any  longer,  and  went 
to  Mrs.  S.,  telling  her  she  did  not  like  the  work  and  was  going 
away.  Mrs.  S.,  who  liked  Miss  Beauchamp  very  much,  said  she 
was  very  sorry,  and  tried  to  persuade  her  to  stay  —  but  not  being 
able  to  do  so,  told  her  if  she  would  wait  till  Mr.  S.  returned,  he 
would  pay  her.  But  the  '  Idiot '  would  n't ;  she  said  she  did  n't 
want  the  money  anyway,  and  left  then  and  there.  Regardless 
of  her  finances,  she  ordered  the  elevator  boy  to  send  for  a  car- 
riage; she  wanted  one,  and  at  once.  No  carriage  appearing 
at  the  end  of  two  or  three  minutes,  she  turned  upon  him  in  a 
rage,  and  stamping  her  foot,  told  him  she  wanted  a  carriage  '  at 
once  — at  once.'  At  the  station,  after  paying  for  the  carriage, 
she  found  herself  with  only  a  little  silver,  less  than  a  dollar,  in 
her  pocket,  not  enough  to  pay  her  fare.  Then  followed  a  period 
of  deep  thought  and  a  walk  through  the  city,  believing  that  if 
she  could  think  hard  enough  [as  she  afterwards  told  me]  she 
would  find  a  way  out  of  her  dilemma.  The  solution  came.  She 
pawned  her  watch  for  four  dollars,  and  returned  to  Boston. 
When  Miss  Beauchamp  (B  I)  later  found  her  watch  gone,  she 
was  much  distressed,  because  it  belonged  to  Miss  Z.  Now,  in 
addition  to  the  loss  of  her  money,  she  had  lost  another  person's 
watch.  Her  trials  had  indeed  multiplied.  Thanks  to  Sally, 
the  watch  was  located  in  the  pawnbroker's  shop,  and  later  I  re- 
deemed it.  It  is  only  fair  to  the  '  Idiot '  to  say  that  she  had 
a  right  to  keep  the  watch  if  she  so  chose,  having,  unknown  to 
Miss  Beauchamp,  exchanged  her  own  for  it,  and  further  she 
had  the  pawnbroker's  card  carefully  preserved.  After  the  re- 
turn of  the  family  to  Boston,  Miss  Beauchamp  (B  I)  in  her 
turn  waked  up  to  find  herself  in  a  strange  lodging  house  on 

Street,  which  Sally  claimed  the  honor  of  selecting  in  the 

following  simple  way :  After  arriving,  Sally  walked  along  the 
street,  saw  a  placard  in  the  window  of  a  house,  went  in  and 
engaged  the  room.  Here  they  remained  for  some  time,  for 
Sally,  to  her  credit  be  it  said,  showed  considerable  judgment 
in  her  selection. 

"  Notwithstanding  Sally's  enjoyment  of  the  details  and  com- 
plications of  this  adventure,  she  was  evidently  frightened  at 
Miss  Beauchamp's  condition,  as  is  shown  by  the  letter  which 
has  just  been  given.     Miss  Beauchamp,  harrowed  and  worried 


by  it  all,  was  ready  to  give  up  the  fight,  and  had  tried  to  com- 
mit suicide.  One  night,  soon  after  returning  to  Boston,  she 
had  closed  tight  the  windows  of  her  room,  turned  on  the  gas 
and  got  into  bed,  but  Sally  —  again  a  guardian  angel  —  imme- 
diately got  up,  turned  off  the  gas,  opened  the  windows,  and 
thus  saved  her  life.  The  attempt  at  suicide  evidently  impressed 
Sally,  who  pondered  upon  it  awhile  and  then  asked  me  whether, 
if  Miss  Beauchamp  killed  herself,  she,  Sally,  would  be  dead 
too.  On  learning  that  this  would  be  the  case,  she  shuddered, 
and  said,  '  I  should  n't  like  that.' " 

It  was  plain  that  Sally  had  conceived  a  dislike  for  the 
"  Idiot "  just  as  she  had  for  Miss  Beauchamp,  but  her 
dislike  was  more  of  the  nature  of  contempt  than  hatred. 
She  described  the  "  Idiot "  as  irritable,  bad-tempered,  and 
given  to  telling  lies,  —  the  last  a  rather  uncharitable  in- 
terpretation on  Sally's  part  of  B  IV's  unwillingness  to 
confess  ignorance  of  the  past,  and  her  pretence  of  knowl- 
edge. These  were  great  sins  in  Sally's  eyes.  Sally  was  of 
the  opinion  that  B  I  and  B  IV  were  in  some  obscure  way 
the  same  person,  and  later  used  to  speak  of  B  IV  as  B  I 
"  rattled." 

At  this  same  interview  an  opportunity  was  offered  to 
observe  B  IV  and  to  study  the  crystallization  of  her  per- 
sonality after  the  summer's  experience.  These  observations 
of  her  personality  have  already  been  incorporated  in  the 
text  (Chapters  XI  and  XII).  It  was  to  be  expected  that, 
by  this  time,  an  adjustment  of  her  mental  processes  to  her 
environment  would  have  taken  place,  and  that  habits  of 
thought  would  have  been  established. 

"  This  is  the  way  B  IV  made  her  appearance  upon  the  scene  : 
[After  Sally  had  told  her  story  B  I  was  awakened  again.] 
While  talking  with  Miss  Beauchamp,  who  had  been  relating  her 
woes,  the  expression  of  her  face  changed ;  the  anxious,  de- 
pressed look  was  gone ;  her  voice  became  deeper,  and  at  times 
low  and  hard  in  contrast  with  the  soft,   high-pitched  tone  of 


Miss  Beauchamp.  The  change  was  puzzling.  I  wondered 
whether  it  was  B  I,  calm  and  peaceful,  or  Sally,  masquerading 
asB  I. 

"  '  Well,'  I  said,  '  Who  are  you9' 

"  ♦  I  'm  Miss  Beauchamp.' 

"  '  No,  you  are  not.' 

"  '  I  think  I  may  be  allowed  to  know  my  own  name.' 

"  Her  tone  was  reserved,  as  if  resenting  an  impertinence,  and 
very  different  from  that  of  either  B  I  or  B  III. 

"  She  rose  to  go,  and  walked  toward  the  door.  Taking  her 
by  the  wrist,  I  attempted  to  lead  her  back  to  her  seat.  This 
she  resented  as  a  familiarity,  which  neither  B  I  nor  B  III 
would  have  done.  Apparently  it  was  neither  of  these  personali- 
ties, but  B  IV,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  June.  I  took  her  in 
hand  at  once  for  a  rigid  examination  that  should  test  her  mem- 
ory and  character.  In  appearance  she  was  calm,  quiet,  dignified, 
and  natural.  Testing  cutaneous  sensation,  it  was  found  to  be 
normal,  thereby  distinguishing  her  from  Sally.  Mentally  she 
appeared  a  normal  person,  but  was  more  formal  and  distant 
with  me  than  were  B  I  and  B  III,  more  like  one  not  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  her  interlocutor.  She  did  not  know  the  amount 
of  money  in  her  hand,  or  how  she  became  possessed  of  it;  how 
she  happened  to  come  to  my  house, ^  or  how  she  got  there ;  but 
she  prevaricated,  dodged,  and  tried  to  cover  her  ignorance  by 
evasive  replies.  By  pushing  home  the  questions,  it  was  easy 
to  convict  her  of  ignorance.  She  admitted  the  New  Haven  es- 
capade, and  gave  her  side  of  the  story,  though  surprised  at  my 
knowledge  of  the  affair.  Though  she  tried  to  preserNc  a  reti- 
cence about  her  affairs,  my  fuller  knowledge  of  them  gave  me 
such  an  advantage,  that  in  questioning  her,  she  furnished  con- 
siderable information.  She  said  that  she  felt  at  times  '  as  if 
possessed '  (Sally  thought  this  a  mere  figure  of  speech),  and  that 
often  she  was  prevented  from  doing  things  she  wished  to  do. 
She  wrote  letters  and  tore  them  up  again,  or  *  some  one  did.' " 

I  have  often  been  asked  concerning  the  frequency  with 
which  the  characters  would  change  their  parts  in  this 
drama,  and  the  length  of  time  each  would  remain  on  the 

*  B  I  had  come  by  appointment. 


stage.  Any  one  of  the  three  might  remain  any  length  of 
time,  from  a  few  minutes  to  several  days,  though  as  a  rule 
many  changes  were  made  in  a  day.  In  the  course  of  an 
interview  of  an  hour,  the  personalities  would  perhaps  change 
several  times,  though  often  this  was  brought  about  inten- 
tionally for  purposes  of  study.  During  the  interview  just 
described,  lasting  probably  two  hours,  the  following  was 
the  oi'der  of  appearance  of  each  character : 

B  I ;  on  entrance. 

B  III;  spontaneous. 

B  I ;  brought  intentionally  by  suggestion. 

B  IV;  spontaneous. 

B  III;  spontaneous,  in  place  of  IV. 

B  I ;  intentional.  ^ 

The  following  letter  from  B  I  is  more  than  amusing.  It 
is  one  of  Sally's  little  jokes,  but  it  has  a  psychological  in- 
terest in  showing  the  power  of  an  inner  consciousness  to 
act  upon  the  primary  consciousness  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  ex- 
hibits not  only  the  synchronous  action  of  two  conscious- 
nesses and  two  wills^  but  the  action  of  one  upon  the  other. 
The  letter  may  be  recognized  at  once  by  its  style  of  expres- 
sion and  thought  as  B  I's,  but  Sally's  fine  hand  is  seen  in 
the  transposition  of  the  letters  in  the  individual  words  so 
as  to  make  what  looks  like  a  sort  of  cipher  language.  B  I 
wrote  the  letter,  as  was  later  learned,  but  Sally,  while  B  1 
was  writing  it,  transposed  the  letters  hi  B  I^s  mind  (Sally 
of  course,  being  "  inside  "),  so  that  B  I  wrote  the  words 
as  thus  dictated.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  letters  of 
each  individual  word  are  correct ;  they  are  only  misplaced. 
This  required  considerable  thought  and  will  on  Sally's  part 
and  gives  a  clue  to  the  extent  of  the  field  of  her  conscious- 
ness when  she  is  "  inside."  ^ 

^  Appendix  B. 

"^  Sally  described  how  she  did  this.  Her  statement  is  of  value  in  throwing 
light  on  the  way  we  think  and  use  language.  Since  discovering  her  power, 
she  has  frequently  mixed  up  Miss  I}eau(lianij)'s  writing. 


[Letter  of  October  17,  1899,  from  B  I ;  lettei-s  of  each 
word  transposed  by  Sally  acting  as  a  subconsciousness.] 

"  I  spoek  revy  hastyli  and  unavdisdely  tadoy  in  prosiming  to 
sden  yuo  lal  ^  Sally's  nesto.  I  catnon.  I  cloud  ton  sden  meth 
ot  nay  eno.  And  sa  orf  ym  thero  presimo  atoub  mooing  ot 
rouy  ofceif  if  I  vahe  anthero  seegi  vviht  my  deah  ti  si  learly 
ipmossible  orf  me  ot  peek  taht  oto.  phlsycialy  ipraossible.  You 
wonk  I  nact  tindissbguisnight  a  tofo  waay  and  nact  klaw  arcosa 
the  moor  vase  with  the  treagest  tidyficulf  I  shodlu  ton  dear  skir 
gniog  ton  of  roods.  I  ma  rorsy  fauwUy,  rorsy  you  shodlu  veah 
enve  blotrued  tabou  it  sthi  meit.     I  idd  ton  mared  of  Mrs. 

lephtenoing  you  orn  idd  I  wonk  yangthin  tabou  it  niltu 


[Translation.]  "I  spoke  very  hastily  and  unadvisedly  to 
day  in  promising  to  send  you  all  Sally's  notes.  I  cannot.  I 
could  not  send  them  to  any  one.  And  as  for  my  other  promise 
about  coming  to  your  office,  if  I  have  another  siege  with  my 
head  it  is  really  impossible  for  me  to  keep  that  too  —  physi- 
cally impossible.  You  know  I  can't  distinguish  things  a  foot 
away,  and  can't  walk  across  the  room  save  with  the  greatest 
difficulty.  I  should  not  dare  risk  going  out  of  doors.  I  am 
sorry,  awfully  sorry,  you  should  have  been  troubled  about  it 

this  time.     I  did  not  dream  of  Mrs. telephoning  you,  nor 

did  I  know  anything  about  it  until  afterward." 

Sally  had  been  threatened  with  a  sanatorium  as  a  punish- 
ment for  her  behavior,  and  had  been  put  on  probation. 
She  promised  reform  and  agreed  to  wake  up  Miss  Beau- 
champ  whenever  the  latter  relapsed  into  herself  or  B  IV. 
Hence  the  following  letter  in  fear  of  being  suspected : 

"I  am  in  for  another  wigging,  I  suppose,  for  She 's 
vanished  again  and  is  n't  to  be  gotten  hold  of,  though  I  've 
tried  three  hurdy-gurdies  and  an  organ-man  and  an  ancient 
piano  —  and  virtue  is  n't  its  own  reward,  for  in  spite  of  all  this 
I  feel  as  guilty  and  as  unhappy  as  possible  to-night.     But  I  am 

1  Note  the  italics,  indicating  that  B  I  thought  she  had  written  all.^ 


sending  you  the  card  you  wanted  and  my  new  address,  

Street.^  I  hope  you  won't  be  very  cross  with  me.  I  really 
have  n't  done  anything,  and  have  written  only  three   letters 

—  this  to-night  to  you,  one  yesterday  to  Mrs.  ,  and  one 

to-day  to  Miss .     If  I  were  to  learn  French,  and  sleep  a 

great  deal  .  .  .  would  you  let  me  stay?  I  don't  see  why  you 
all  disapprove  of  me,  —  why  you  all  think  me  just  a  psycho- 
logical phenomenon.     I  can't  understand." 

The  idea  of  learning  French  had  come  to  Sally  as  an 
inspiration.  In  spite  of  her  hatred  for  study  she  set  to 
work  to  learn  the  language.  If  she  only  knew  French 
perhaps  we  should  think  her  quite  as  much  of  a  person  as 
B  I  or  B  IV,  and  perhaps  we  would  let  her  stay.  So 
Sally  got  a  French  book  and  a  dictionary  and  plodded 
away  on  her  road  to  culture.  But  her  career  as  a  student 
soon  came  to  an  untimely  end.  She  appeared  one  day, 
stuttering  badly  and  in  bad  temper,  but  very  funny. 

"  Everything  is  just  upside  down,"  she  complained. 
"  The  Idiot  has  been  laughing  at  my  French,  and  I 
c-c-can't  t-t-talk  to-day,  and  I  c-c-can't  feel  things."  ^ 

She  pouts  and  flounces  about  the  room  in  a  most  amus- 
ing way.  I  tell  her  she  is  now  catching  it  in  her  turn, 
but  encourage  her  to  go  on  with  her  story,  which  is  a  long 
one.  The  Idiot,  it  appeared,  had  picked  up  some  notes 
written  by  Sally  and  had  laughed  at  the  French.  Sally 
became  angry,  and  the  Idiot  paid  for  her  indiscretion. 
That  night  she  (the  Idiot)  could  not  leave  the  house,  but, 
a  lonesome  prisoner,  she  passed  a  weary  evening  in  a  chair, 
with  her  feet  perched  high  up  on  the  back  of  another. 
"  She  looked  just  like  an  actress,"  said  Sally,  "  and  was  so 
angry  because  she  could  n't  go  out.  She  could  n't  get  her 
feet  down." 

1  The  house  selected  by  Sally  after  returning  from  New  Haven. 

2  It  will  be  remembered  that  Sally  could  recover  sensibility  by  auto- 


[From  B  I,  September  24.]  "You  are  very  good,  but 
there  is  little  I  can  tell  you,  for  I  have  lost  most  of  the  time 
since  the  evening  of  the  twelfth  [12  days],  only  coming  to  my- 
self for  a  few  hours  on  Friday  last,  and  again  this  afternoon.  I 
am  quite  well  physically,  save  that  I  have  a  bad  headache,  and 
am  awfully  tired  and  sleepy  —  my  usual  condition  after  one  of 
these  attacks,  you  know.  As  for  my  sins,  I  can't  confess  yet, 
for  I  am  still  in  ignorance  concerning  them.  I  really  do  not 
know  what  I  have  been  doing  this  time.  It  will  '  out '  soon 
enough.  There  is  a  perfectly  tantalizing  heap  of  thirteen 
envelopes  on  my  table  (received  since  I  was  last  here),  from 
which  all  the  letters  have  been  taken,  and  I  suppose  that  means 
trouble  and  confusion  sooner  or  later,  but  I  am  almost  too  tired 
to  care.  I  thank  you  again  —  a  thousand  times  —  for  your 
patience !  It  must  be  awfully  hard  for  you.  I  do  realize  it, 
and  that  I  ought  to  fight  this  thing  out  alone,  and  yet  it  seems 
so  impossible  to  do  it.     I  have  tried,  believe  me." 

To  this  there  was  appended  the  following  postscript, 
"A  nasty  old  letter  —  Amen,"  by  Sally,  of  course. 

Here  are  three  letters  written  by  Sally  to  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  and  one  from  the  latter  enclosing  them : 

[Sally  to  B  I.]  "I  shall  never  forgive  you  last  night's 
madness  —  never,  never,  never !  But  it  has  settled  one  thing 
at  least,  and  that  is  my  having  anything  more  to  do  with  you. 
I  disown  you  absolutely,  forever,  and  entirely,  and  you  may  go 
to  the  devil  in  your  own  sweet  way,  for  all  me.  I  give  you  a 
week  to  get  there  —  oh,  no,  less  than  that,  if  your  friend  the 
Idiot  assists,  much  less.  You  shall  call  for  me  then^  but  I  will 
not  hear  you.     I  will  not  answer. 

"  P.  S.  I  shall  not  hinder  you  in  anything,  neither  shall  I 
help  you.     Go  your  way." 

[Sally  to  B  I.]  "  Do  you  know  what  I  shall  do  if  you  don't 
write  me  about  the  three  farthings  man  immediately,  as  I  asked 
you  to?  I  shall  put  a  little,  creepy,  gray  mouse  with  cold 
feet,  and  a  long,  long,  twisty  tail  down  your  back,  and  fasten 


him  in  so  he  will  bite  you.    Consider  this,  little  sister  mine,  and 
hump  yourself.      You  don't  half  appreciate  me  —  not  half." 

[Sally  to  B  I.]  "  You  do  like  433}  You  think  it's  per- 
fectly delightful  here,  and  you  are  going  to  stay  all  winter. 
Please  commit  this  text  to  memory,  ragazza,  for  you  've  slipped 
up  twice  within  twenty-four  hours,  and  my  patience  is  fast 
vanishing.  Don't  make  me  write  about  it  again.  I  'm  too 

[Letter  of  October  11  to  me  from  Miss  Beauchamp,  enclos- 
ing the  above  three  notes  from  Sally  :]  "  This  note  [No.  1]  has 
made  me  so  uneasy.  But  it  is  absurd,  is  n't  it,  for  how  can  one 
disown  oneself,  how  hate  oneself,  or  how  exult  in  one's  own 
destruction,  one's  own  undoing?  It  is  madness  to  think  of. 
Keep  me  from  it,  I  pray  you !  I  have  not  lost  more  than  an 
hour  or  two  since  I  left  you  yesterday,  and  have  slept  be- 
tween six  and  seven  hours.  Were  it  not  for  my  uneasiness 
concerning  '  Sally '  and  the  '  Idiot '  I  should  feel  quite  well." 

^  The  number  of  the  house  which  Sally  had  selected  after  the  return  from 
New  Haven.    Miss  Beauchamp  did  not  like  the  house. 



THE  BIETH  OF   B  I,    "tHB   SAINT  " 

IT  will  be  easily  undei-stood  from  what  has  been  said  in 
the  last  chapter  that  B  IV,  by  her  coming  and  going, 
constantly  found  herself  in  awkward  situations.  She 
would  suddenly  appear  out  of  the  nowhere  to  discover 
herself  in  familiar  conversation  with  an  apparent  stranger, 
who  would  refer  to  events  of  which  she  knew  nothing;  or 
she  would  receive  letters  in  reference  to  engagements  or 
past  occurrences  of  which  she  was  in  entire  ignorance. 
Many  embariussing  predicaments  were  the  consequence. 
It  required  all  her  mental  ingenuity  to  keep  posted  on  the 
doings  of  B  I ;  or  rather,  to  state  the  fact  from  her  point 
of  view  (for  she  knew  nothing  of  B  I  as  a  personality),  on 
that  part  of  her  life  when  she  herself  was  absent.  As  we 
shall  later  see,  she  had  several  methods  of  getting  this 
information ;  one  was  by  visions.  She  discovered  that  by 
*'*' fixing  her  mind,^'  as  she  called  it,  she  could  create  a 
vision  of  almost  any  event  in  which  she  had  taken  part, 
either  as  herself  or  in  those  blank  periods  of  her  life  when 
she  was  B  I.  These  visions  were  similar  in  character  to 
the  crystal  visions  which  used  to  be  obtained  with  Miss 
Beauchamp  for  purposes  of  experiment.  Unlike  Sally, 
therefore,  both  personalities  were  good  subjects  for  these 
phenomena.  The  process  of  "  fixing  her  mind  "  consisted 
in  thinking  intently,  to  the  extent  of  absentmindedness, 
on  any  subject  upon  which  she  wished  information,  and  if 
it  was  a  scene  in  which  one  or  other  member  of  the  family 
had  played  a  part,  the  whole  would  rise  before  her  like  a 

THE  BIRTH  OF  B  I,    "THE  SAINT"  211 

I  sometimes  took  advantage  of  this,  as  1  did  with  B  I, 
to  learn  additional  facts  about  her  past  life.  I  never  knew 
a  vision  to  be  in  error  in  the  slightest  detail,  about  facts 
of  which  I  myself  had  accurate  records  or  personal  knowl- 
edge; yet  a  vision,  when  reproducing  a  past  experience, 
must  represent  the  scene  as  the  subject  saw  it,  not  neces- 
sarily as  it  was.  The  reliability  of  the  evidence  must 
therefore  depend  on  the  accuracy  of  the  subject's  observa- 
tions. When  these  are  perverted  by  emotion,  the  vision 
must  exhibit  a  corresponding  perversion. 

At  this  time,  September,  1899,  with  a  particular  pur- 
pose in  view,  I  sought  to  obtain  a  vision  of  the  episode  of 
the  seventh  of  June  last,  when  B  IV  made  her  first  appear- 
ance. Without  other  suggestions  of  any  kind,  I  directed 
B  IV  to  "  fix  her  mind  "  upon  the  event,  and  describe 
what  she  saw.  She  sat  before  me,  her  mind  "fixed  on 
vacancy."  As  she  watched  the  scenes  of  the  vision  pass- 
ing before  her,  the  changing  expression  of  her  face  re- 
flected all  the  passing  emotions  which  at  the  time  of  the 
actual  events  she  had  experienced.  This  is  always  the 
case  with  her  as  well  as  with  B  I  in  seeing  visions.  The 
feelings  originally  actually  felt  are  re-excited.  Sometimes 
she  is  so  overcome  that  she  breaks  away  from  the  sight. 
In  interpreting  this  vision,  it  must  be  kept  in  mind  that 
B  IV  remembers  only  that  part  of  the  episode  in  which  she 
herself  took  part.  She  has  no  recollection  of  the  scenes 
when  B  I  and  Sally  were  present.  Hence  her  surprise 
at  those  portions  of  the  vision.  This  was  the  vision 
(scene,  her  room:  B  I  is  present); 

[Surprised  and  objecting.]^  "  I  am  not  like  that!  I  am  not 
like  that !     [Shocked  at  the  picture  she  sees  of  her  other  miser- 

^  In  brackets  are  enclosed  such  comments  as  will  render  the  meaning 
clearer.  The  words  describing  the  vision  are  those  of  B  IV,  so  far  as  I 
could  write  them  down,  —  a  difficult  undertaking.  Some  of  the  statements 
were  in  reply  to  my  questions. 


able  self,  B  I,  she  breaks  ofif ;  then  looks  again.]  I  see  myself 
walking  up  and  down.  [This  was  B  I,  agitated  and  nervous, 
and  before  my  entrance.]  You  are  not  there. ^  Oh,  my  head ! 
[Feels  her  headache  as  B  I.]  Oh,  yes,  I  see  you.  It  is  n't  the 
window;  it  is  the  door.^  You  are  coming  through  the  door. 
You  take  hold  of  my  arm  —  so  [illustrating].  You  sit  down. 
No,  I  can't  hear  what  you  say.  Oh,  Dr.  Prince  [annoyed  and 
incredulous],  I  am  not  like  that!  [Referring  to  the  great  ner- 
vousness of  B  I.]  You  sit  down,  and  I  get  up  and  walk  back 
and  forth.  I  am  very  nervous.  I  seem  to  be  talking  very  fast. 
No,  I  can't  hear  what  I  say.^  I  am  very  much  upset.  It  is  Dr. 
Prince  who  is  present.^  I  am  all  right  now  —  not  so  nervous.^ 
Why  [surprised],  Dr.  Prince  is  gone!  It  isn't  you.  It  is 
some  one  else  —  some  one  you  don't  know.  [Stamps  her  foot, 
annoyed  and  angry.]  It  is  Jones  [this  after  much  reluctance].^ 
He  is  talking  —  talking.  He  throws  himself  back  on  the  couch. 
Now  I  get  up.  I  am  standing,  talking  again.  I  get  some 
scraps  of  writing  paper  —  some  blue,  some  white "  —  and  a  long 
square  thing.  He  is  talking  and  writing,  writing,  writing.  He 
throws  down  the  paper  and  tries  to  take  hold  of  me.  He  does 
that  [makes  passes  in  imitation  of  hypnotizing].  I  resent  it 
strongly.  He  sits  down  again.  He  shows  me  his  watch.  He 
puts  it  back  in  his  pocket,  and  takes  hold  of  me  again.  I  go 
like  that  [shuts  her  eyes,  sways,  rubs  her  eyes].  It  is  the  same 
room.  All  is  changed  again.  You  have  come  back  and  are 
standing  near  the  door.  I  am  nervous  again  [B  I].  You  are 

B  IV,  for  a  moment,  was  annoyed  by  the  revelations  of 
this  vision,  for  she  personally  knew,  and  therefore  remem- 
bered only  that  part  of  the  scene  which  followed  her  own 
awakening  and  which  ended  with  B  I's  reappearance. 
She  still  knew  nothing  of  her  different  personalities  as 
such;  she  knew  only  losses  of  time.  Further,  to  see  now 
a  scene  in    which  two  other  persons  (Jones  and  myself) 

1  In  reply  to  a  question. 

2  Here  B  I  has  changed  to  B  IV,  with  the  illusion  of  my  identity. 
'  For  me  to  take  notes  ou.     See  p.  172. 

THE  BIRTH  OF   B   I,    "THE   SAINT"  213 

alternately  took  part  —  one  changing  into  the  other  —  was 
contradictory,  and,  as  she  could  not  understand  it,  annoy- 
ing. The  first  thing  of  which  she  has  conscious  knowl- 
edge is  Jones,  sitting  on  the  sofa  and  asking  for  writing 
paper,  etc.^  Irritated  and  perplexed,  she  exclaimed, 
"Who  was  there?  [Stamping  her  foot.]  Anyway,  you 
couldn't  both  be  there.  You  were  there,  then.  Jones 
was  there,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  theory,  which  arose  as  a  suspicion  soon  after  B  TV's 
appearance,  had  been  growing  in  strength  until  the  idea 
had  become  almost  a  conviction.  This  theory  was,  it  will 
be  remembered,  that  B  I  was  not  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp, 
but  that  B  IV  was  more  nearly  the  true  one;  and  that  at 
some  time  in  the  past  a  psychical  catastrophe  had  taken 
place  by  which  a  cleavage  had  occurred  in  the  original 
consciousness,  and  B  I  had  become  split  off  as  a  quasi- 
somnambulistic  personage;  and  that  with  the  appearance 
of  B  IV  there  had  been  a  return  of  or  waking  up  of  the 
original  Miss  Beauchamp.  ^  It  has  been  pointed  out  that 
other  cases  of  this  kind  had  occurred,  and  that  of  Rev. 
Ansel  Bourne  was  instanced.  The  case  of  Rev.  Thomas 
C.  Hanna,  studied  by  Dr.  Boris  Sidis,  may  also  be  cited. 
If  it  were  not  for  interrupting  this  narrative  numerous 
cases  might  be  mentioned  to  give  support  to  this  interpre- 
tation. It  was  the  simplest  explanation.  It  was  merely  a 
question  of  evidence. 

With  this  hypothesis  in  mind,  all  three  members  of 
"the  family,"  as  Sally  used  to  speak  of  them,  were  inter- 

^  All  the  details  of  what  took  place  while  B  IV  was  present,  B  IV  recol- 
lects distinctly.  Her  memory  is  in  entire  accord  with  both  my  notes  and  the 

*  It  was  difficult  at  this  time  to  determine  how  closely  B  IV  approximated 
the  original  Miss  Beauchamp  either  in  memories  or  character,  owing  to  the 
fact  of  my  being  practically  a  stranger  to  B  IV,  and  the  consequent  difficulty 
of  obtaining  her  confidence.  It  was  a  long  time  before  she  was  willing  to 
disclose  her  consciousness  to  me. 


rogated,  in  search  of  some  accident  or  emotional  shock 
which  might  have  caused  a  split  in  consciousness.  It  was 
now  for  the  first  time  that  I  learned  from  all  three  (Sally, 
B  IV,  and  B  I),  and  again  later  from  B  II,  the  secret  which 
had  thus  far  been  closely  guarded.^  The  stories  of  all 
three  agreed  in  every  particular,  so  far  as  the  memories  of 
each  went.     This  is  what  was  first  learned  from  Sally : 

It  is  necessary  to  go  back  six  years  to  the  year  1893. 
In  1893  Miss  Beauchamp  was  a  nurse  in  a  hospital  in 
a  neighboring  city  — let  us  call  it  "Providence."  The 
passion  of  her  life  had  been  to  be  a  medical  nurse,  and  at 
last,  in  a  fit  of  idealism,  she  had  entered  this  hospital. 
One  night,  while  in  the  nurses'  sitting-room  conversing 
with  a  friend,  Miss  K.,  she  was  startled,  upon  looking  up, 
to  see  a  face  at  the  window.  It  was  the  face  of  her  old 
friend,  William  Jones,  a  man  whom  with  the  idealism  of 
girlhood  she  worshipped  as  a  being  of  a  superior  order. 
He  was  much  older  than  she,  cultivated,  and  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  spiritual  and  the  ideal.  At  first  Miss  Beau- 
champ  thought  the  face  a  hallucination,  but  in  a  moment, 
seeing  that  it  was  a  real  person,  she  hastily  got  Miss  K. 
out  of  the  room,  making  the  excuse  that  she  herself  was 
needed  in  the  wards.  As  soon  as  Miss  K.  left,  Miss  Beau- 
champ  went  down  to  the  door  where  she  met  Jones.  It 
transpired  that  he  had  stopped  over  in  Providence,  en 
route  to  New  York,  and  had  wandered  up  to  the  hospital. 
Seeing  a  ladder  which  had  been  left  by  workmen)  leaning 
against  the  side  of  the  building,  he  had,  in  a  spirit  of  fun, 
climbed  up  and  looked  into  the  window.  At  the  hospital 
door  an  exciting  scene  occurred.  It  was  to  Miss  Beau- 
champ  of  an  intensely  disturbing  nature,  and  gave  her  a 
tremendous  shock.  Perhaps  I  should  say  here,  as  I  have 
told  so  much  of  the  story,  that  it  was  the  kind  of  thing 

1  Sally  told  the  story  October  26 ;  B  IV,  November  1 ;  B  I,  NoTember 
3;  B  II,  November  8  (1899). 

THE  BIRTH  OF   B  I,    "THE   SAINT"  215 

which  upon  the  ordinary  person  would  not  have  had 
much  influence  —  though  it  was  of  an  emotional  charac- 
ter. Miss  Beauchamp,  with  her  sensitive  and  idealistic 
nature,  probably  exaggerated  its  meaning  and  gave  it  an 
intensity  that  an  ordinary  person  would  not  have  given. 
At  any  rate,  it  did  give  her  a  violent  shock. ^  The  sur- 
roundings, too,  were  dramatic.  It  was  night,  and  pitch 
dark.  A  storm  was  passing  over,  and  great  peals  of 
thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning  heightened  the  emotional 
effect.  It  was  only  by  these  flashes  that  she  saw  her 

Miss  Beauchamp  returned  to  her  duties  much  agitated. 
For  several  days  she  was  in  an  excited  state.  She  walked 
the  wards  by  night,  and,  in  the  day  time  when  off  duty 
and  supposed  to  be  asleep,  slipped  out  of  the  hospital  and 
wandered  about  the  fields.  Then  she  began,  according  to 
Sally's  account,  gradually  to  change  in  character.  She 
became  nervous,  excitable,  and  neurasthenic.  All  her 
peculiarities  became  exaggerated.  She  became  unstable 
and  developed  aboulia.  She  grew,  too,  abnormally  reli- 
gious. In  other  words,  she  became  changed  in  character, 
and  has  been  changed  ever  since,  "  and  Jones  thinks  so, 
too,'^  said  Sally.  . 

It  seemed  that  at  last  we  had  a  clew,  though  as  yet  in- 
complete, both  to  the  origin  of  the  two  personalities,  B  I 
and  B  IV,  and  to  the  puzzling  behavior  of  B  IV  on  her 
first  appearance,  June  7.  If  the  hypothesis  suggested  — 
that  B  IV  is  approximately  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp 
—  be  correct,  then  several  things  would  be  expected  to 
follow  at  her  awakening: 

1  The  shock  of  this  incident  was  undoubtedly  intensified  by  Miss  Bean- 
champ's  nerves  having  been  shaken  earlier  in  the  evening  by  a  scene  with  a 
delirious  patient.  There  was  a  terrific  thunderstorm  at  the  time.  Miss  B. 
was  walking  down  a  dark  corridor,  when  suddenly,  in  a  flash  of  lightning, 
she  saw  this  patient  running  toward  her.  She  was  much  shaken  by  the 
incident.     (See  Chapter  V,  p.  66.) 


First,  she  would  imagine  it  to  be  the  same  day  of  the 
year  and  the  same  time  of  day  that  it  was  when  she  "  went 
to  sleep "  and  disappeared.  She  would  imagine  the  sur- 
roundings and  circumstances  to  be  the  same,  and  the 
whole  interval  of  time  which  had  elapsed  during  her  Rip 
Van  Winkle  sleep,  between  her  changing  to  B  I  and 
her  reappearance  as  B  IV,  would  be  a  blank.  She  would 
tend  to  go  on  with  the  occupations  she  was  engaged  in 
at  that  time.  This,  then,  would  be  the  explanation  of 
her  awakening  on  June  7,  the  details  of  which  are  intel- 
ligible by  this  hypothesis.  She  had  "  gone  to  sleep "  on 
that  eventful  night  in  the  hospital  and  had  changed  to 
B  I.  Waking  again,  June  7,  she  thought  herself  still  in 
the  hospital,  in  the  same  room  and  on  the  same  night 
when  Jones  appeared  at  the  window.  Under  the  influence 
of  this  general  idea  she  interpreted  her  surroundings: 
objects  became  illusions ;  the  room  became  that  of  the  hos- 
pital; and  I  became  Jones.  (This  creation  of  an  illusion 
by  the  force  of  a  suggested  associated  idea  has  been 
often  brought  about  experimentally  with  B  IV.  B  I's 
negative  hallucinations  in  regard  to  the  rings  are  of  the 
same  order.)  Logically,  she  inferred  that  I  had  come  in 
through  the  window,  having  seen  me  there  a  moment 
before.  Her  criticism  of  the  impropriety  of  my  conduct 
in  coming  to  a  hospital  in  that  way  was  intelligible,  as 
well  as  the  criticism  of  my  being  there  at  all  at  that  hour. 
Hence  her  remarks  about  the  unwisdom  of  asking  for 
her,  even  at  the  door,  and  her  joke  about  my  break- 
ing my  neck  had  a  point,  seeing  that  she  thought  the 
room  was  in  the  second  story  of  the  hospital.  Even  the 
reason  for  the  illusion  was  apparent  in  the  association 
of  the  several  events.  All  this  was  intelligible  by  the 

Secondly,  if  this  hypothesis  were  true,  B  IV  would 
have  a  perfect  memory  for  her  whole  life  antecedent  to 

THE   BIRTH   OF  B  I,    "THE   SAINT"  217 

the   hospital   episode;    while   all   between   that  and    her 
awakening  would  be  forgotten.  ^ 

One  point  of  psychological  interest  may  be  pointed  out 
in  passing.  The  disintegrating  emotional  shock  occurred 
at  the  hospital  door.  The  moment  when  the  amnesia  of 
B  IV  began  was  not  as  yet  quite  clear,  but  presumably  the 
loss  of  memory  went  back  farther,  to  the  moment  when 
she  saw  the  face  at  the  window.  This  is  what  is  known  as 
retrograde  amnesia^  and  frequently  follows  accidents.  The 
loss  of  memory  goes  back  over  a  period  antedating  the 
exciting  cause. 

There  still  remained  the  testimony  of  the  Idiot  herself. 
This  was  not  so  easy  to  obtain.  Her  habit  of  pretending 
to  know  events  that  occurred  during  the  times  when  Sally 
and  B  I  were  in  existence  has  been  already  dwelt  upon. 
This  habit  she  fortunately  has  now  (1900)  given  up  to  a 
large  extent.  In  moments  of  contrition  and  friendliness 
she  makes  a  clean  breast  of  everything,  but  at  that  time 
she  would  not  only  audaciously  insist  that  she  had  this 
knowledge,  but  would  also  maintain  an  obstinate  silence 
regarding  herself,  to  the  extent  of  resenting  every  inquiry 
into  her  thoughts  and  doings.  Every  interview  opened 
with  tiresome  sparring,  which  ended  only  when  her  defeat 
was  crushing.  She  claimed  to  know  everything  —  even 
what  took  place  in  my  presence  with  Sally  and  B  I.  It 
was  easy  to  mislead  her,  "fishing  and  guessing"  only  as 
she  was,  by  deftly  worded  questions,  and  then  when  her 
foot  was  well  in,  spring  the  trap.  Thus,  it  was  not  difficult, 
by  examining  her  on  events  of  which  I  had  pei"sonal  knowl- 
edge, to  convict  her  of  pretence,  but  it  was  not  until  com- 

1  I  should  point  out  that  there  was  a  curious  hiatus  in  her  memory. 
Though  she  remembered  Jones's  face  at  the  window,  she  did  not  apparently 
remember  that  Miss  K.  liad  been  present  up  to  that  moment,  as  shown  by  her 
denial  in  .answer  to  a  question.  (See  Chapter  XI.,  p.  174.)  Such  freaks  of 
memory  are  not  uncommon  in  these  hysterical  amnesias. 


pletely  cornered  that  she  would  become  tractable  or  admit 
that  she  did  not  know. 

Sally  disliked  her  almost  as  much  as  she  did  B  I,  and 
constantly  harped  upon  what  she  bluntly  called  her  "  ly- 
ing." While,  strictly  speaking,  "lying"  was  the  plain 
English  of  it,  yet  from  B  IV's  point  of  view  this  was  jus- 
tifiable, in  self-defence.  The  difficulty  of  getting  the  exact 
truth  from  B  IV  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  she  did, 
indirectly,  acquire  some  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  life 
of  B  I  and  Sally,  by  what  her  friends  let  drop,  and  by 
"fishing  and  guessing,"  as  well  as  by  visions.  Occa- 
sional isolated  memory  pictures  also  would  emerge  out  of 
the  depths  of  B  I's  life,  and  pass  into  her  own  conscious- 
ness.^ It  was  proved,  however,  that,  aside  from  these 
memory  flashes,  B  IV  knew  nothing  of  her  life  since 
June  7  as  B  I  or  Sally.  Had  she  any  continuous  memory 
of  Miss  Beauchamp's  life  before  the  hospital  episode,  or 
of  the  six  years  intervening  between  that  event  and  her 
awakening  on  the  seventh  of  June? 

To  understand  B  IV's  attitude  of  mind,  as  has  been  so 
frequently  insisted  upon,  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  she  could  not  appreciate  that  we  really  knew 
her  intimately ;  and,  when  I  stopped  to  think,  I  found  it 
equally  hard  to  realize  that  this  person,  whom  I  had 
known  well  for  years  (though  as  another  personality),  felt 
herself  a  complete  stranger  to  me.  It  was  equally  difficult 
for  me  to  assume  a  manner  of  formality  and  drop  that  of 
intimacy,  and  vice  vei'sa^  from  moment  to  moment  as  the 
personalities  changed  before  me.  Any  other  attitude  than 
that  of  distant  formality  B  IV  resented. 

It  became  essential  that  B  IV's  confidence  should  be 
gained.  I  waited  patiently  an  opportunity,  when  she 
should  show  a  conciliatory  mood.     One  day,  November  1, 

1  Never  out  of  Sally's  consciousness.    See  Chapter  XV. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  I,   "THE   SAINT"  219 

1899,1  after  the  usual  preliminary  sparring,  she  broke 
down  and  confessed ;  apparently  becoming  tractable,  frank, 
and  repentant.  In  this  mood  she  described  the  events  of 
the  seventh  of  June  as  they  appeared  to  her  at  the  time, 
and  also  described  the  hospital  affair  of  six  years  before. 
My  notes  of  her  statement  run  as  follows: 

\_Notehook.']  "  When  she  saw  me  on  the  seventh  of  June  for 
the  first  time,  she  imagmed  she  was  in  the  hospital,  and  that  I 
was  Joues.  She  thought  it  was  that  same  night,  six  years  be- 
fore, when  she  was  sitting  in  the  nurses'  room  and  saw  the  face 
of  Jones  at  the  window.  She  loas  unaware  that  these  six  years 
had  passed.  She  mistook  me  for  Jones  [by  an  ilhision],  and 
therefore  thought  that  I  must  have  come  in  through  the  win- 
dow. This  last  was  an  inference,  which  she  had  made  from  the 
fact  that  she  had  seen  me  (as  she  supposed)  a  feio  moments  he- 
fore  (instead  of  years)  on  the  ladder,  and  therefore  supposed  I 
had  entered  in  that  way.  It  was  (she  imagined)  the  same  night, 
and  the  ladder  was  there. 

"As  to  the  original  adventure,  it  now  seemed  to  her  only 
about  one  year  ago.^  It  was  about  one  or  two  o'clock  when 
Jones  appeared  at  the  window  of  the  hospital.  He  had  done  it 
for  a  joke.  (Here  B  IV  drew  a  diagram  of  the  room,  showing 
the  relative  positions  of  the  window,  Miss  K.  and  herself.) 
'  When  Miss  K.  went  upstairs  I  went  into  the  ward  because  a 
child  was  crying.  I  stayed  there  a  few  minutes.  I  don't  re- 
member what  I  did,  but  I  stayed  on  duty  the  rest  of  the  night.' 

"'Did  n't  you  go  out?' 

"  '  No,  I  could  n't  go  out.     I  may  have  gone  downstairs.' 

"  '  Did  n't  you  see  Jones  again  that  night? ' 

"'No;  I  am  sure.'" 

Note  the  fact  that  B  IV's  memory  of  the  event  stops 
at  the  point  where  she  went  into  the  ward ;  that  is,  just 

J  See  Chapter  XIV. 

2  That  is,  instead  of  six  years.  B  IV's  reappearance  was  on  June  7, 
1899;  therefore,  since  1893  she  had  really  had  about  five  montiis' existence 
to  date,  November  1,  1899. 


before  the  exciting  interview.  There  was  therefore  retro- 
grade amnesia,  as  suspected.  She  did  not  remember 
going  downstairs.  Her  statement  that  she  had  not  seen 
Jones  again  that  .night  or  the  next  day  could  not  be 
shaken;  nor  could  she  say  when  she  saw  him  again. ^ 

"I  now  said,  '"Fix"  your  mind  [for  a  vision],  and  see 
whether  you  saw  him  again  that  night.'  She  looks  straight 
forward  and  falls  into  a  dreamy  state.  '  I  have  got  it.  Dr. 
Prince.  It  is  curious.  I  see  there  are  two.  No,  I  don't  get  it.' 
[Then,  much  agitated,  and  withdrawing  from  what  she  sees:] 
'  No,  it  is  impossible !  No,  it  is  not  true !  No,  no,  no !  I  see 
nothing  true !  I  hear  nothing ! '  [She  shrinks  as  if  in  great 
mental  distress.]  I  urge  her  on,  saying,  '  Look,  you  see  your- 
self outside  the  hospital.'  She  repeats  again,  '  It  is  not  true ! 
That  did  not  take  place!  I  see  nothing  true!  I  hear  nothing 
true!'  She  continues  denying  and  resisting.  I  insist,  though 
she  seems  in  mental  anguish,  as  if  re-enacting  what  is  before 
her.  She  again  '  fixes '  her  mind,  and  apparently  follows  a 
scene.  '  I  can  see  two  —  [a  pause.]  No !  I  would  tell  you 
if  what  I  see  were  true!  We  separate  —  [a  pause.]  No. 
I  can't  tell  you ! ' 

"  'Do  you  see  yourself?* 

"  '  Yes,  I  see  myself.' 

'"With  whom?' 

"'Jones;  but  not  like  himself.  All  is  dark  except  for  the 
flashes  of  lightning.'  She  seems  abstracted  and  answers 
dreamily  :  '  It  is  not  Jones  at  all,  —  his  face  is  all  drawn,  and 
he  is  very  much  excited.'  Then,  coming  more  to  herself,  '  He 
was  very  nervous  and  excited  —  not  like  himself  —  and  as  I 
saw  myself  I  seemed  so,  too.  It  was  dark,  and  lightning 
flashes  lighted  up  my  face  and  his.     I  was  frightened.' 

"  '  Where  were  you? ' 

"'It  must  be  outside  the  hospital  door.  I  am  absolutely 
sure  it  is  not  true.  The  vision  is  gone.  It  was  all  very  horrid. 
I  don't  like  visions  like  that.     It  never  happened.     [Looking 

1  B  IV  has  since  stated  that  she  has  no  recollection  of  meeting  Jones 
again  until  the  summer  of  1899,  that  is,  six  years  later;  though  Miss  Beau- 
champ  and  Sally  have  seen  him  frequently  in  the  last  few  years. 

THE  BIRTH  OF  B  I,    "THE   SAINT"  221 

again.]  I  can't  tell  you  more.  No,  I  can't  hear  anything. 
Now,  I  see  only  the  trees.  He  seemed  perfectly  mad.  [She 
shrinks  and  shudders.]  Don't  ask  me  to  tell  you  more ;  I  can't ! ' 
[She  moves  her  lips  inarticulately,  as  if  physically  unable  to 
speak  (aboulia?)  and  I  allow  her  to  come  to  herself.] 

"B  IV  says  that  she  has  had  this  same  vision  several  times 
this  summer,  and  that  it  was  'always  the  same,'  which  was 
'  queer.' ^  It  had  made  an  impression  on  her  in  her  relations 
with  Jones,  as  if  something  had  come  between  them.  She  has 
no  idea  that  the  vision  is  anything  more  than  a  fantasy,  or  an 
experiment  without  any  basis  in  fact ;  and  I  allow  her  to  re- 
main in  this  belief,  for  if  B  IV  is  the  true  Miss  Beauchamp 
and  is  to  remain  in  existence  it  would  be  unkind  to  awaken  a 
distressing  recollection  of  this  kind. 

"Sally  now  bounced  into  existence,  highly  excited,  and  be- 
gan vehemently  to  contradict  B  IV's  statement  that  the  vision 
'  was  not  true.'  '  It  is  true.  It  is  true,'  she  exclaimed.  Then 
Sally,  while  thinking  about  the  vision,  became  sad,  dreamy,  and 
depressed;  then  suddenly  changed  back  to  B  IV,^  who  said  the 
vision  had  come  again  but  that  it  was  not  true. 

"As  she  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  she  again  changed  to 
Sally,  who,  however,  refused  to  give  further  details,  for  it  was 
thinking  about  the  vision,  she  said,  which  had  brought  B  IV. 
I  insisted  upon  Sally's  thinking  of  the  vision,  though  she  ob- 
jected and  accused  me  of  wishing  to  bring  B  IV.  'Think 
about  it,'  I  persisted.  'Put  your  mind  on  it.'  She  became 
dreamy,  as  if  half-hypnotized.  I  bade  her  tell  more.  She  re- 
fused, shuddered,  fought,  saying  she  could  n't  and  I  must  n't 
ask;  'I  can't  help  telling!'  etc.  Here  I  desisted,  feeling  that 
her  wishes  should  be  respected.'     It  was  evident  —  what  I 

1  See  Appendix  C. 

2  This  suppression  of  Sally,  when  dwelling  in  her  mind  on  the  thoughts  of 
B  IV  or  B  I,  has  a  significance  which  will  be  reverted  to  in  another  con- 

8  It  is  only  right  to  add  that  I  am  certain  from  what  I  have  since  learned 
that  it  wasonly  the  youth,  inexperience,  and  extreme  impressionability  of  Miss 
Beauchamp  that  allowed  her  feelings  to  be  so  wrought  upon  ;  and  tliat  a  more 
experienced  person  would  not  have  found  sufficient  in  tlie  interview  to  justify 
such  an  exhibition  of  emotion.  Further  tlian  this,  as  I  have  pointed  out 
above,  such  a  vision  represents  a  scene  as  it  was  originally  seen  by  the  sub- 


wished  to  learn  —  that  whatever  occurred  had  produced  a 
profound  shock,  and  had  left  a  horrible  remembrance  in 
B  I  and  Sally." 

Summing  up  what  had  been  learned,  the  testimony  of 
Sally  and  of  B  IV  was  in  agreement  up  to  the  moment  of 
going  into  the  ward,  when  the  memory  of  B  IV  ceased. 
After  that  moment,  the  statements  of  Sally  were  corrobo- 
rated by  the  vision  induced  in  B  IV. 

There  remained  the  evidence  of  B  I  and  B  II.  Miss 
Beauchamp  was,  of  course,  in  entire  ignorance  of  what 
had  been  stated  by  the  others,  and  therefore  of  the  fact 
that  I  had  any  knowledge  of  the  hospital  affair.  At  fii*st 
surprised  and  startled  at  my  knowledge,  she  soon  accepted 
the  situation  and  told  with  complete  frankness  the  whole 
story,  just  as  Sally  and  B  IV  had  told  it,  going  into  every 
detail,  with  such  exceptions  as  she  considered  confidential, 
— a  reservation  the  others  had  made  also.  She  remembered 
everything  that  B  IV  remembered,  and,  besides,  all  that 
occurred  after  going  into  the  ward,  when  B  IV's  memory 
ceased.  Her  memory  was  continuous  for  the  whole  epi- 
sode. She  confirmed  Sally's  statements,  word  for  word, 
up  to  the  point  of  her  own  change  of  character,  of  which 
she  had  no  realization,  although,  of  course,  she  appreciated 
the  impairment  of  her  general  health  following  the  shock. 

She  added,  what  I  had  not  realized  before,  that  what 
particularly  distressed  her  was  the  fact  that  since  that 
eventful  night  she  had  tried  to  break  with  the  past,  while 
Sally,  by  corresponding  and  making  engagements,  and 
thereby  breaking  the  promises  that  B  I  made,  was  con- 
stantly putting  her  in  false  positions.  This  was  the  secret 
of  her  dread  of  Sally's  correspondence. 

The  testimony  of  B  II  was  not  of  so  much  value  from 

ject  and  therefore  possibly  perverted  by  the  emotions  experienced  at  the 
time.  This  should  be  said  in  extenuation  of  the  other  actor  in  the  sceDO 
in  case  one  is  tempted  to  draw  uu warranted  inferences. 

.     THE  BIRTH  OF  B  I,   "THE   SAINT"  223 

one  point  of  view,  because  she  necessarily  knew  all  that 
B  I  and  B  IV  said.  From  another  point  it  was  the  most 
valuable  of  all,  for  she  never  quibbled  or  prevaricated  or 
withheld  information.  She  might  be  called  the  "  soul  "  of 
Miss  Beauchamp,  so  straight  and  true  were  all  her  thoughts 
and  dealings.  B  II  said  the  account  was  all  true  in  every 
particular,  and,  at  my  request,  repeated  it  again  in  detail. 

Thus  we  have  the  testimony  of  all  four  personalities  in 

Our  previously  put  questions,  whether  B  IV  remem- 
bered the  whole  of  her  life  antedating  the  hospital  episode, 
in  1893,  and  whether  she  had  amnesia  for  the  six  years 
following,  up  to  June  7,  1899,  may  now  be  answered, 
though  the  answers  were  not  easily  obtained.  Searching 
inquiry  demonstrated  that  B  IV  remembered  the  events  of 
the  first  period  as  well  as  Miss  Beauchamp  remembered 
them;  for  those  of  the  second  period  she  had  no  more 
knowledge  than  she  had  of  the  present  periods  when  B  I 
was  in  the  flesh.  These  six  years  were  a  blank  to  her. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  the  details  of  the  inquiries 
establishing  these  facts.  It  would  be  merely  a  tedious 
recital  of  the  events  of  her  early  life  on  the  one  hand,  and 
an  inability  to  mention  any  (excepting  "mind-fixing" 
phenomena)  belonging  to  the  second  six-years'  period  on 
the  other.  The  observations,  continued  through  the  whole 
seven  years  covering  the  period  of  this  study,  corroborate 
these  earlier  determined  data. 

Putting  together  all  the  facts  thus  far  learned  which 
bear  upon  the  development  of  B  I  and  B  IV,  we  are  able 
to  make  the  following  historical  summary,  for  which  the 
evidence  is  conclusive:  Miss  Beauchamp  was  distinct  as  a 
unity,  a  single  consciousness,  up  to  the  summer  of  1893. 
At  that  time  there  occurred  a  psychical  catastrophe  which 
produced  a  disintegration  of  consciousness,  by  which  her 
personality  changed  and  she  developed  into  B  I. 


B  I  retained  all  the  memories  of  her  youth,  as  well  as 
of  the  accident  which  led  to  her  development;  and  also, 
of  course,  of  her  whole  life  (that  is,  exclusive  of  Sally's 
entrances)  during  the  six  years  succeeding  the  accident  of 
1893,  that  is,  up  to  June  7,  1899.  She  also  retained  a 
memory  of  those  periodical  times  when  she  had  been  in 
existence  since  the  latter  date.  She  differs  from  her  orig- 
inal state  in  certain  bodily  characteristics  known  as  neuras- 
thenia, and  in  certain  mental  characteristics  —  instability 
and  suggestibility  —  and,  above  all,  in  certain  alterations 
of  character.  B  I  therefore  remained  the  sole  personality 
in  existence  for  six  years  —  to  June  7,  1899 — when,  ow- 
ing to  some  cause  thus  far  unknown,  a  hitherto  unobserved 
personality  was  awakened,  which  in  associations  of  mem- 
ory reverted  to  a  past  period  of  life,  namely,  that  which 
antedated  and  ended  with  the  aforesaid  catastrophe  of 

This  personality  (IV)  apparently  belonged  to  that  earlier 
period,  and  remembered  the  events  of  her  life  up  to  a  cer- 
tain hour,  namely,  that  just  preceding  the  incident  which 
caused  the  psychical  shock,  at  which  time  her  memory 
ceased.  From  that  eventful  moment  this  new  personality 
had  absolutely  no  memory  of  anything  that  occurred  dur- 
ing the  ^*  "^llowinof  six  years,  ending  June  7,  1899.  Since 
this  last  date  she  knows  and  remembers  only  the  events 
that  have  happened  during  those  interrupted  periods  when 
she  herself  has  been  in  existence.  Since  her  appearance 
she  has  been  constantly  alternating  with  B  I  and  with 
B  III. 

The  life  of  Miss  Beauchamp  has  been  a  constant  suc- 
cession of  independent  mental  states  known  as  B  I,  B  IV, 
and  B  III.  B  IV  has  known  nothing  of  B  I,  and  B  I 
nothing  of  B  IV,  while  Sally  (B  III)  has  had  a  knowledge 
of  both  the  others,  although  her  knowledge  of  each  has 
differed  in  some  important  particular.     Thus  B  IV  and 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  I,    "THE   SAINT"  225 

B  I  each  has  knowledge  of  the  events  which  happened  to 
the  unaltered  personality  before  1893;  but  since  the  dis- 
integration, each  has  been  cognizant  only  of  the  events 
experienced   by  herself  as  a  separate  personalit}'. 

Such  were  the  facts  as  they  had  developed  up  to  Novem- 
ber, 1899.  But  there  remained  one  fact  in  the  develop- 
ment of  B  IV  which  was  as  yet  undisclosed.  What  was 
it  that  caused  B  IV  to  be  awakened  June  7?  Thus  far 
I  had  no  inkling  that  anything  had  occurred  which  could 
have  brought  it  about.  But  I  became  convinced  that 
something  must  have  occurred  to  reawaken  B  IV,  —  if 
that  is  the  proper  interpretation.  As  an  inquisitor  I  set 
about  the  task,  and  closely  interrogated  B  II,  Sally,  and 
B  I.  B  IV,  of  course,  could  have  no  knowledge  of  any 
event  of  this  kind,  for  she  was  then  "asleep."  After 
close  questioning,  B  II  told  the  following: 

On  the  afternoon  of  June  7  Miss  Beauchamp  was  in 
my  office.  After  leaving  she  went  to  the  Boston  Public 
Library.  B  II  had  a  vivid  memory  of  this  afternoon.  She 
described  accurately  the  people  whom  she  saw  in  my  office, 
and  each  succeeding  event  after  her  departure.  She  told 
the  route  she  took  in  her  walk  to  the  Library,  and  the  title 
of  the  book  read  after  her  arrival.  At  this  point  I  put 
abruptly  the  question,  "What  else  did  you  *^  jthere?" 
She  became  frightened,  shrinking  from  me  as  one  might 
from  some  horrible  dream.  Her  features  were  expressive 
of  mental  distress,  and  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  open 
her  eyes.  It  was  evident  that  something  had  happened. 
Finally,  though  hesitatingly,  B  II  completed  her  story: 

In  the  Library  Miss  Beauchamp,  quite  accidentally,  so 
far  as  she  was  concerned,  met  a  messenger  who  was  the 
bearer  of  a  letter  from  Jones.  ^  The  letter  was  couched 
in  the  same  sort  of  language  as  that  which  he  had  used 
on  the  memorable  night  in  August,  1893.     The  tone  and 

1  Probably  this  had  been  arranged  by  Sally. 


language  of  the  letter  recalled  the  scene  of  that  night, 
bringing  the  whole  vividly  back  to  her.  She  became  highly 
nervous  and  excited,  and  then  and  there  had  a  vision  of 
the  scene  in  which  she  met  Jones  outside  the  hospital 
door.  She  could  hear  his  voice  speaking  as  he  did  then ; 
and  the  whole  —  the  letter  and  the  memory  —  gave  her  a 
profound  shock,  agitating  her  as  she  had  been  agitated 
six  years  before.  She  was  profoundly  moved  and  upset. 
While  in  this  condition  of  extreme  agitation  she  went  into 
the  Newspaper  Room  and  there  had  a  hallucination.  In 
large  headlines  in  a  newspaper  there  was  the  announce- 
ment of  the  death  of  a  relative  of  mine.  Miss  Beauchamp 
either  misread  the  name,  or,  more  probably,  through  a 
hallucination,  saw  it  as  mine.  Under  this  additional 
shock  she  returned  home  in  a  state  of  great  nervousness. 
The  succeeding  events  of  the  day  I  knew.  Her  condi- 
tion after  reaching  home  was  such  that  even  Sally  became 
alarmed,  and,  hoping  to  quiet  her,  scribbled  the  following 
note  on  a  piece  of  paper: 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  Dr.  Prince  is  as  much  alive  as  you  are.  It 
is  his  father  who  is  dead."  ^ 

Almost  immediately  after  her  return  home  I  was  sent 
for.  On  arrival  I  found  her  as  she  has  been  previously 
described.  Then  followed  the  awakening  of  B  IV,  her 
mistaking  me  for  Jones,  etc.  Undoubtedly,  then,  what 
had  awakened  B  IV  was  the  reawakening  of  the  hospital 
episode  by  suggestion  and  association  of  ideas.  Later 
Miss  Beauchamp  herself  corroborated  this  story. 

While  B  II  was  giving  this  account  a  characteristic  inci- 

1  This  note  I  have.  The  dramatic  character  of  the  sitaatiou  is  striking. 
Imagine  a  highly  excited  hysterical,  rattled  consciousness ;  besides  this, 
another  consciousness,  calm  and  observant,  taking  in  the  scene,  and  finally, 
becoming  alarmed  about  the  consequences,  writing  a  message  to  the  first  con- 
scioDsness  to  correct  its  delusion.  The  second  consciousness  both  recognized 
the  deloBion  and  clearly  oriented  the  environment. 

THE  BIRTH   OF  B  I,    "THE   SAINT"  227 

dent  occurred.  She  began  to  repeat  the  Public  Library 
letter  verbatim,  when  suddenly  her  lips  refused  to  speak. 
She  was  seized  with  aboulia.  Sally  had  interfered,  stopped 
her,  and  then  came  herself.  She  refused  to  allow  her  to 
tell  more,  but  said  it  was  all  true. 
Was  B  IV  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  ? 






ON  reviewing  the  results  of  our  studies  up  to  this  point, 
it  will  be  apparent  that  we  are  still  far  from  being  in 
possession  of  an  adequate  psychological  explanation  of  the 
phenomena  of  multiple  personality,  as  manifested  by  this 

What  has  been  shown  is :  1st,  the  reality  of  a  number  of 
distinct  groups  of  mental  states  in  the  same  individual, 
and  that  these  groups  may  be  accurately  characterized  as 
personalities ;  2d,  the  historical  course  of  their  develop- 
ment; 3d,  the  etiological  conditions  which  gave  rise  to 
them,  that  is,  the  immediate  exciting  causes ;  4th,  at  times, 
the  coexistence  and,  autonomous  activity  of  one  particular 
(B  III)  with  each  of  the  others ;  5th,  the  successive  inter- 
changing of  each  of  the  personalities.  Finally  the  fact  is 
worth  emphasizing  that  each  one,  if  not  interfered  with  by 
the  others  or  by  the  emotional  shocks  of  her  environment, 
might  have  monopolized  existence  and  pursued  her  social 
life  as  any  other  freeborn  citizen,  —  as  B  I  actually  did 
for  six  years.  In  other  words.  Miss  Beauchamp,  if  not 
interfered  with,  might  have  continued  indefinitely  in  any 
one  of  her  states. 

In  dealing  in  geneml  with  the  broad  problem  of  mul- 
tiple, or,  more  correctly,  disintegrated  personality,  several 


important  questions  await  us,  such  as,  What  is  a  person- 
ality? Is  there  any  particular  normal  real  self?  and, 
What  are  the  psychological  or  physiological  alterations 
which  determine  the  division  of  personality  and  permit  one 
and  the  same  individual  to  have  multiple  mental  lives? 
For  the  present,  however,  we  are  concerned  only  with  the 
specific  problems  of  this  specific  case,  and  of  these  perhaps 
the  primary  question  at  this  particular  epoch  of  this  study 
was :  Which  of  the  personalities  is  the  true  and  original 
Miss  Beauchamp,  or  is  any  one  of  them  she  ?  If  not,  where 
is  the  real  self  ?  What  has  become  of  her  ?  These  ques- 
tions had  to  be  answered  before  the  others  could  be  solved. 
It  may  be  argued,  and  with  force,  that  underlying  this 
question  of  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  is  that  of  whether 
there  is  any  particular  normal  real  self.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  question  of  what  constitutes  a  normal  and 
real  self  is  fundamental  to  the  understanding  of  multiple 
personality.  " What  constitutes  a  disintegrated  self?"  is 
the  same  question  in  another  form.  It  is  a  very  practical 
one,  and  enters  more  than  is  generally  supposed  into  the 
every-day  clinical  problems  of  the  psychoses.  A  want  of 
proper  consideration  of  this  question  has  given  rise  in  not 
a  few  instances,  as  I  view  the  matter,  to  a  wrong  interpre- 
tation of  the  psychological  phenomena  of  disintegrated  per- 
sonality. The  conception  has  even  been  entertained  that 
any  one  of  the  secondary  states  into  which  the  original  self 
may  be  broken  up  may  be  quite  as  normal  as  the  original, 
and  may  be  equally  entitled  to  be  regarded  as  the  "  real  self." 
Indeed  in  specific  instances  the  secondary  self,  or  what  has 
been  supposed  to  be  a  secondary  self,  has  been  considered 
to  be  superior  to  the  normal  self.  Thus,  for  instance, 
Binet  describes  the  "  secondary "  state  of  F^lida  X.  as 
superior  to  the  normal  self,  in  that  "  all  her  faculties  seem 
to  be  more  fully  developed  .and  more  complete."  ^ 

1  AlteratiouB  of  Personality,  p.  9. 


The  suspicion  does  not  seem  to  have  arisen  that  the  so- 
called  secondary  state  may  have  been  the  normal  state  ;  and 
yet  this  interpretation  of  the  superior  self's  being  a  second- 
ary one  has  come  in  not  a  few  instances,  as  I  hope  to  show 
in  another  place,  from  mistaking  a  disintegrated  state  be- 
cause first  observed,  for  the  real  self  and  the  real  self  for 
a  disintegrated  state.  The  state  which  has  been  observed 
secondarily  in  time  has  been  assumed  to  be  psychologically 
secondary  though  it  may  well  have  been  the  normal  state.^ 

Again,  approaching  the  subject  from  a  purely  psycho- 
logical point  of  view,  it  has  been  held  that  of  the  various 
possible  selves  which  may  be  formed  out  of  the  "  mass  of 
consciousness  "  belonging  to  any  given  individual,  there  is 
no  particular  real  or  normal  self ;  one  may  be  just  as  real 
and  just  as  normal  as  another,  excepting  so  far  as  one  or  the 
other  is  best  adapted  to  a  particular  environment.  If  the 
environment  were  changed,  another  self  might  be  the  nor- 
mal one.  But  the  psychological  point  of  view  is  too 
limited.  What  test  have  we  of  adaptation?  There  is  a 
physiological  point  of  view  as  well,  and  also  a  biological 
point  of  view,  from  which  personality  must  be  considered. 
A  normal  self  must  be  able  to  adjust  itself  physiologically 
to  its  environment,  otherwise  all  soi-ts  of  perverted  re- 
actions of  the  body  arise  (anesthesia,  instability,  neuras- 
thenic symptoms,  etc.),  along  with  psychological  stigmata 
(amnesia,  suggestibility,  etc.),  and  it  becomes  a  sick  self. 
Common  experience  shows  that,  philosophize  as  you  will, 
there  is  an  empirical  self  which  may  be  designated  the  real 
normal  self.  However,  I  shall  put  aside  this  question  for 
tlie  present  and  assume  that  there  is  a  normal  self,  a  par- 
ticular Miss  Beauchamp,  who  is  physiologically  as  well  as 
psychologically  best  adapted  to  any  environment. 

'  Besides  the  cnse  of  Felida  X.,  that  of  Marcelline  R.,  reported  by  Dr.  Jules 
Janet,  and  that  of  Mary  Reynolds,  republished  by  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  may 
be  cited  as  further  examples. 


This  self  should  be  free  from  mental  and  physical  stig- 
mata (suggestibility,  amnesia,  aboulia,  anesthesia,  etc.), 
which  commonly  characterize  the  disintegrated  states  mak- 
ing up  multiple  personality.  Such  a  self  may  be  termed 
the  real  self,  in  the  sense  that  it  is  not  an  artificial 
product  of  special  influences,  but  the  one  which  is  the  re- 
sultant of  the  harmonious  integration  of  all  the  processes, 
both  physiological  and  psychological,  of  the  individual. 
Any  other  self  is  a  sick  self.  I  shall  return  to  this  ques- 
tion at  another  time  and  in  another  place.  Meanwhile  I 
shall  ask  that  this  view  be  provisionally  accepted,  as  I  be- 
lieve it  will  be  justified  in  this  case  by  the  final  outcome, 
and  that  it  can  be  shown  to  be  the  correct  interpretation 
of  the  phenomena  of  multiple  personality. 

In  the  hunt  for  the  real  self  the  greatest  difficulty  lay 
in  deciding  between  B  I  and  B  IV.  Sally,  whoever  she 
might  be,  was  clearly  not  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp, 
and  not  a  normal  person.  All  the  evidence  pointed  con- 
clusively to  the  view  that  Sally,  by  all  odds  the  most 
interesting  of  the  personalities,  was  some  sort  of  a  dis- 
sociated group  of  conscious  states,  and  therefore  the  psy- 
chological explanation  of  this  young  lady  was,  to  this 
extent  at  least,  comparatively  simple. 
^  The  explanation  that  first  suggested  itself  was  that 
which  has  already  been  given  in  the  last  chapter,  namely, 
that  Miss  Beauchamp  was  a  somnambulistic  personage,  and 
that  B  IV  was  the  real  and  original  self  who  had  at  last 
waked  up.  As  already  pointed  out,  persons  to  whom  this 
has  happened  are  not  so  very  uncommon.  Instances  of  this 
mental  accident  are  chronicled  from  time  to  time  in  the 
daily  press,  and  awaken  more  or  less  sensational  interest. 
Besides  the  cases  already  cited  in  the  last  chapter,  another 
and  more  recent  case  ^  is  that  of  Charles  W.,  who,  after  the 

1  Reported  by  Dr.  Edward  E.  Mayer,  Jonmal  of  the  American  Medical 
Association,  December  14,  1901.    This  case  in  many  ways  resembles  that  of 


shock  of  a  railway  accident,  changed  in  disposition  and 
other  mental  as  well  as  bodily  characteristics.  Seventeen 
years  later,  as  the  result  of  another  shock,  he  woke  up 
with  complete  loss  of  memory  for  everything  that  had  oc- 
curred during  this  interval,  and  found  himself  married  and 
the  father  of  four  children !  On  waking,  he  thought  the 
time  was  that  immediately  following  the  railway  accident, 
and  his  first  words  were,  "Am  I  much  hurt  ?  "  When 
asked  if  he  would  like  to  see  his  children  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
am  not  married.  It  is  a  nice  thing  for  a  man  twenty-four 
years  of  age  to  wake  up  and  be  told  that  he  is  the  father  of 
four  children  I  " 

While  these  studies  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  case  were  be- 
ing pursued,   another  case   of    double   personality,    Mrs. 

J n,  came  under  my  observation.     Nine  years  before 

she  had  been  subjected  to  a  mental  shock,  and  ever  since 
had  been  in  poor  health  and  exhibited  various  nervous 
symptoms.  Thus  far  she  resembled  B  I.  One  day,  while 
I  was  attempting  to  hypnotize  her,  she  suddenly  changed  in 
manner,  her  attitude  and  mode  of  speech  became  different 
from  what  they  had  been,  her  symptoms  vanished,  her 
memory  for  the  past  nine  years  became  obliterated,  and  she 
thought  it  was  the  morning  of  the  day  nine  years  before, 
when  she  had  received  the  nervous  shock.  She  thought 
she  had  come  into  the  city  to  do  some  errands,  as  she  had 
done  on  that  day,  and  that  she  was  now  on  her  way  home. 
This  case  disappeared  from  observation  before  I  had  a 
chance  to  complete  my  study  of  it,  but  I  was  struck  with 
the  resemblance  of  the  new  Mrs.  J.  to  B  IV,  and  the  same 
question  arose.  Is  it  the  original  personality  who  has 
awakened  out  of  somnambulism? 

In  respect  to  amnesia.  Dr.  Hodgson's  case  of  Bourne,  and 

Miss  Beauchamp,  and  possibly  deeper  study  might  have  disclosed  phenomena 
which  would  require  the  same  explanation  which  was  finally  arrived  at  in 
Miss  Beauchamp's  case,  instead  of  the  interpretation  given  by  Mayer, 


Dr.  Mayer's  case  differed,  to  be  sure,  from  that  of  Miss 
Beauchamp.  Bourne  and  Charles  W.  in  their  second  states 
had  no  memory  of  their  previous  lives,  while  B  I's  memory 
was  continuous  for  her  whole  life  preceding  the  accident. 
But  we  have  seen  that  amnesia  is  in  no  way  an  essential 
part  of  disintegrated  personality.  Sally  indeed  was  with- 
out amnesia,  if  we  limit  our  tests  to  the  facts  of  conduct 
and  external  life  and  do  not  include  those  of  the  intellectual 

There  was  no  serious  objection,  then,  to  regarding  B  I  as 
a  quasi-disintegmted  somnambulistic  person,  in  spite  of  the 
continuity  of  her  memory.  According  to  this  hypothesis, 
the  failure  of  B  IV  to  remember  the  period  following  the 
hospital  accident  in  1893  might  be  classed  as  what  is  known 
as  anterograde  amnesia ;  just  as  her  loss  of  memory  for 
the  short  period  intervening  between  her  leaving  the  room 
and  the  emotional  shock  in  the  doorway,  that  is,  for  the 
period  immediately  preceding  the  shock,  would  be  classed 
as  retrograde  amnesia.  The  former  is  called  anterograde 
because  it  goes  ahead  of  the  emotional  crisis,  while  the 
retrograde  amnesia  involves  a  period  of  time  antedating 
the  accident ;  just  as  a  person  who  has  received  a  cerebral 
concussion  may  lose  all  memory,  not  only  for  the  acci- 
dent itself,  but  for  a  definite  period  of  time  immediately 
preceding  it. 

Following  this  point  of  view,  if  we  suppose  that  Miss 
Beauchamp  had  a  severe  emotional  shock  in  the  doorway  of 
the  hospital,  we  may  also  suppose  that  she  only  partially 
waked  up  after  recoveiy  from  the  emotion-psychosis,  al- 
though seeming  comparatively  nonnal.  In  this  state  she 
may  be  supposed  to  have  remained  for  six  years,  when  she 
awoke  completely  as  B  IV,  with  anterograde  amnesia  for 
the  preceding  six  years. 

The  somnambulistic  theory,  then,  and  the  reawakening 
of  the  original  person,  in  spite  of  the  persistence  of  memory 


in  B  I,  was  the  simplest  explanation  of  this  strange  case, 
and  was  in  accord  with  what  we  know  may  occur  in  certain 
individuals  of  unstable  mental  equilibrium.  There  was 
nothing  forced  or  unusual  in  this  theory.  But  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  this,  though  as  yet  only  a  working 
hypothesis,  had  already  borne  fruit  in  leading  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  hospital  catastrophe  and  the  scene  in  the 
Public  Library.  The  hypothesis  rested  thus  far  on  inade- 
quate data,  and  on  inferences.  There  was  much  to  be  said 
in  its  favor.  It  explained  the  various  peculiarities  of 
memory  and  behavior  in  B  IV  on  her  first  appearance,  and 
by  it  many  peculiarities  manifested  by  Miss  Beauchamp 
herself  became  intelligible.  Some  of  these  latter  pheno- 
mena were  difficult  to  reconcile  with  a  normal  personality, 
even  though  neurasthenic.  They  plainly  were  the  stig- 
mata of  hysteria,  and  if  Miss  Beauchamp  was  a  disin- 
tegrated personality,  as  the  hypothesis  made  her,  she  would 
be  expected  to  exhibit  them. 

Among  the  most  striking  of  these  phenomena  may  be 
instanced :  her  aboulia ;  her  extreme  suggestibility  in  the 
waking  state ;  her  impressionability  to  her  environment ; 
the  ease  with  which  visions  and  negative  hallucinations 
were  created ;  the  dissociation  of  consciousness  by  which 
another  coexistent  personality  (B  III)  manifested  automa- 
tisms ;  the  mobility  of  her  neurasthenia,  exhibited  by  the 
rapidity  with  which  it  was  induced  by  a  passing  emotion 
and  removed  by  a  suggestion  ;  and  finally,  the  way  in  which 
the  ideas  and  emotions  of  the  moment  dominated  her  mmd 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else  and  acquired  an  inten- 
sity unusual  in  normal  minds.  The  intensity  of  her 
religious  feelings  may  be  recalled  in  illustration  of  the 
last.  Whether  the  very  saintliness  of  her  character,  her 
absolute  freedom  from  the  petty  weaknesses  which  char- 
acteiize  liuman  nature,  is  compatible  with  a  normal  human 
being,  I  do  not  pass  upon.     I  merel}^  point  out  that  no  one 


seems  ever  to  have  observed  in  her  irritability  of  temper, 
rudeness  of  speech,  retaliation  for  injury,  jealousy,  envy, 
or  malice,  which  in  some  degree  characterize  stronger 

Then,  too,  the  hypothesis  made  attractively  simple  why 
B  IV,  on  her  first  appearance,  imagined  that  she  was  living 
at  almost  the  exact  time  and  place  that  she  went  to  sleep, 
so  to  speak,  six  years  previously.  Her  apparent  health, 
also,  both  mental  and  physical,  supported  the  hypothesis. 

The  chief  obstacles  to  the  verification  of  the  hypothesis 
were :  lack  of  personal  knowledge  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
character  before  the  accident  of  1893 ;  B  IV's  obstinate 
refusal  to  disclose  her  own  present  mental  life,  and  Sally's 
ignorance  of  it,  Sally  chafed,  too,  at  being  obliged  to  talk 
psychology  and  "  that  kind  of  stuff,"  so  that  it  was  difficult 
to  get  much  out  of  her.  One  day,  however,  she  gave  a 
flood  of  information  regarding  the  personality  of  B  IV, 
much  of  which  has  already  been  related  in  Chapters  XI 
and  XIII.  Sally  became  for  the  moment  serious  and 
earnest,  showing  great  intelligence  and  perspicacity  in  her 
analysis  of  the  psychological  and  other  facts.  She  discussed 
them  with  intelligence  and  interest,  went  over  the  history 
of  the  past  year,  explained  many  facts  which  were  obscure, 
and  recalled  others  which  I  had  overlooked.  Reference 
to  my  notebook  showed  that  Sally's  memory  was  correct.^ 
Her  theory  of  B  IV,  which  she  was  careful  to  explain  was 
only  a  theory,  was  afterward  written  out  by  her  at  length. 

[Notebook.]  "  Sally  prefaced  her  theory  by  saying  with  some 
diffidence  that  she  did  not  know  whether  or  not  she  was  right. 
She  thinks  the  Idiot  like  Miss  Beauchamp  as  she  used  to  be, 

1  The  accuracy  of  Sally's  memory  was  extraordinary,  and  would  furnish 
a  study  in  itself.  I  have  known  her  to  repeat  word  for  word  the  contents 
of  a  letter  written  a  long  time  previously,  and  she  could  remember  the  minutest 
details  of  incidents  such  as  I  could  not  possibly  remember,  but  could  verify  by 
my  records.  It  is  also  true  that  all  t)ie  persoualities  have  extraordinarily  accu- 
rate memories  for  their  own  respective  lives. 

IS   NOT  B  IV  THE   REAL   MISS   BEAUCHAMP?     239 

but  not  'up  to  date.'  She  is  like  Miss  Beauchamp  as  slae  was 
wheu  a  young  girl  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  '  Jones  says 
so  too.'  [About  years  and  dates  Sally  is  not  accurate,  having 
very  little  comprehension  of  time ;  twenty  years  and  fourteen 
would  be  the  same  to  her.]  ■  She  thinks  the  Idiot  goes  back 
mentally  to  about  the  time  of  the  hospital  episode,  when  she 
received  the  mental  shock.  She  does  not  mean  that  to  the  Idiot 
it  is  exactly  that  time,  but  that  she  is  living  in  her  imagination 
at  about  that  time,  and  has  forgotten  all  between  that  time  and 
now.  '  Don't  you  remember,'  said  Sally,  '  that  she  did  not 
know  you  when  she  first  came,  and  thought  you  had  come 
through  the  window?  She  thought  the  time  was  that  of  the  hos- 
pital affair.  You  remember  she  did  n't  recognize  your  office  at 
her  first  visit  here,  and  she  only  half  knows  you.  She  does  n't 
know  much  about  you.  She  goes  back  partly  to  old  times,  with 
a  sprinkling  of  modern  times  ;  that  is,  she  is  always  fishing  and 
guessing,  and  what  she  gets  from  modern  times  she  gets  by 
suggestions  from  other  people.  When  she  is  talking  with  Jones 
she  almost  invariably  goes  back  to  old  times  and  speaks  of 
them  as  if  they  were  present.  I  think  she  has  impressions  as 
if  she  were  living  at  that  time.  She  knoios  it  is  n't  years  ago, 
but  all  the  same  she  talks  hardly  at  all  of  things  that  have  hap- 
pened between,  excepting  wheu  people  suggest  to  her  events 
that  have  happened  since.'  " 

Sally  then  went  on  to  illustrate  her  views  by  recalling 
various  facts,  such  as  that  the  Idiot  had  referred  to  Mrs. 
X.  by  her  maiden  name.  Miss  D.  (Miss  D.  had  been  mar- 
ried since  the  hospital  affair),  that  she  kept  calling  Dr. 
Hodgson  Dr.  Y.,  some  one  she  had  known  in  Providence, 
and  that  she  had  written  Jones  two  letters  (destroyed  by 
Sally)  referring  to  hospital  times  as  if  she  were  still  living 
in  them,  etc. 

"  She  knows,"  Sally  argued,  "  everything  relating  to  the 
present  that  has  occurred  while  she  herself  is  in  existence, 
and  guesses  from  what  she  sees  and  hears  about  the  times 
when  she  is  '  dead.'  " 

The  rest  of  Sally's  statement  may  be  briefly  summarized 


as  follows :  B  IV  and  B  II  were  not  identical  because  she 
(Sally)  knew  the  thoughts  of  B  II  but  not  of  B  IV ;  B  IV 
never  appeared  until  June  7  ;  B  II  knew  all  about  B  I 
while  B  IV  knew  nothing  of  her  ;  B  II  had  no  spontaneity, 
but  confined  herself  simply  to  answering  questions  like  a 
person  in  hypnosis  ;  and  the  Idiot  was  without  the  maturity 
which  the  last  six  years'  experience,  if  she  had  had  it, 
would  have  given  her. 

In  other  woids,  according  to  Sally's  idea,  the  problem 
was  very  simple :  B  IV,  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp  (as 
she  was  before  the  nervous  shock  at  Providence),  now 
waking  up,  after  a  six  years'  sleep,  had  not  as  yet  become 
accustomed  to  the  changed  circumstances  in  which  she 
found  herself.  As  all  her  associations  were  those  of  the 
year  1893,  she  went  back  in  her  mind  to  tliat  time  and 
spoke  and  acted  as  if  she  were  living  then.  She  was  not 
actually  under  the  delusion  that  she  was  living  then,  for 
she  had  learned  the  contrary,  but  her  thoughts  kept  relaps- 
ing from  time  to  time. 

These  latter  statements  were  observations  of  fact  about 
which  there  was  no  question.  Whether  the  inference  was 
justifiable  that  this  personality  was  the  original  self  was 
another  question,  and  largely  depended  upon  the  deter- 
mination of  her  character,  and  of  her  mental  and  physical 
qualities  as  well  as  memories. 

The  question  then,  whether  this  personality  was  the 
original  self  or  not,  was  of  the  greatest  importance,  for  on 
its  solution  hung  Miss  Beauchamp's  fate.  Plainly,  if 
B  IV  were  the  real  self,  she  must  be  kept  and  the  others 
annihilated.  Poor  Miss  Beauchamp,  the  saint,  whom  we 
knew  so  well,  whom  we  had  protected  and  cared  for, 
would  be  only  a  dissociated  personality,  a  somnambulist, 
and  must  no  longer  be  allowed  to  live.  This  person  must 
never  be  seen  again.  Every  friendly  association  must  be 
broken  as  through  physical  death.     But  how  obtain  the 


evidence  sufficient  for  proof  ?  Here  were  two  people, 
either  of  whom  might  be  the  real  self,  while  there  was  no 
reason  to  suspect  that  there  was  any  other  personality  not 
yet  known.  Which  was  the  real  one  ?  The  only  way  to 
solve  the  problem  was  to  study  the  personalities  day  by 
day ;  to  follow  every  thread  of  evidence ;  to  study  the 
characteristics,  the  habits,  the  memories,  the  thoughts,  the 
mental  reactions  of  each ;  to  determine  which  personality 
was  comportable  with  abnormality  and  which  with  nor- 
mality, and  so  find  the  real  seK ;  then,  regardless  of  per- 
sonal associations,  annihilate  the  other. 

The  difficulty  of  understanding  the  Idiot  is  illustrated 
by  the  fact  that  even  Sally,  upon  the  very  day  she  elabo- 
rated her  theory,  began  to  wobble  a  bit  in  her  opinion. 

"I  am  sending  you  the  letters/'  she  wrote,  "the  spooky 
message,^  and  also  some  objections  to  my  theory  concerning  the 
Idiot,  though  I  am  afraid  you  know  all  about  her  and  have 
only  been  teasing  me  to-day.  But  if  she  really  is  Miss  B., 
why  is  she  so  unlike  her  in  some  ways ;  for  instance,  in  being 
so  awfully  impatient  and  quick-tempered?  Miss  B.  never  was. 
And  in  telling  lies,  and  forgetting,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  —  that  isn't  like  Miss  B.  really,  not  in  the  least  —  nor 
even  like  me,  bad  as  you  all  think  me.  And  then  she  knows 
some  things  that  we  have  acquired  recently,  as  shorthand, 
though  I  believe  she  fishes  for  her  shorthand  in  some  such  way  as 
she  does  for  other  things.  But  you  know  best.  Do  let  me  help 
you,  if  I  can.  I  never  dreamed  of  all  this  stuff  making  any  dif- 
ference, or  being  of  any  real  interest  in  your  work,  —  and  even 
now  I  don't  quite  see  its  importance?  But  I  will  tell  you  every- 
thing I  can,  nevertheless,  and  if  you  won't  please  criticise  the 
.  .  .  letters,  perhaps  I  may  get  them  or  copies  of  them  for  you. 
Shall  I,  or  are  they  too  old  now  ?  " 

These  objections  could  not  be  taken  too  seriously.  All 
the  departures  noticed  by  Sally  from  Miss  Beauchamp's 

1  Some  automatic  writing. 


foiiner  habits  of  thought  and  conduct  could  be  logically 
explained  by  the  change  of  times,  circumstances,  and  con- 
ditions in  which  she  found  herself.  The  saintliest  of 
characters  might  find  a  justification  in  prevaricating  and 
fibbing  if  she  should  wake  up  after  a  six  yeai-s'  sleep  to 
find  herself  in  a  strange  land  and  among  strange  people, 
who  not  only  had  an  unaccountable  familiarity  with  her 
life,  but  were  constantly  inquiring  into  and  managing 
her  affairs  and  herself.  Such  a  saint  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  be  patient  under  the  surveillance  of  a  stranger, 
or  to  submit  to  it  without  remonstrance.  If  there  were 
some  old  acquaintances  as  well  as  strangers,  times  had 
changed  and  B  IV  could  not  be  expected  to  realize  the 
change  in  her  relations  to  former  friends  thus  brought 
about.  Also,  Sally  did  not  know  what  B  IV  really 
thought,  so  her  moral  criticisms,  which,  after  all,  were 
made  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  child,  could  not  be  taken 
too  seriously.     She  was  shocked  as  a  child  might  be. 

A  psychological  objection  to  B  I  V's  being  the  Real  Miss 
Beauchamp  lay  in  the  very  fact  that  Sally  did  not  know 
her  thoughts,  as  she  knew  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp  before 
1893.  But  it  might  be  argued  that  some  internal  modi- 
fication had  occurred,  and  it  did  not  seem  safe  to  lay  too 
much  stress  upon  this  fact. 

One  day  (November  1)  I  took  the  Idiot  into  my  con- 
fidence and  explained  what  we  were  trying  to  do  to  help 
her,  her  relations  to  her  new  friends,  how  it  had  come 
about  that  she  was  under  professional  care,  and  some 
things  of  her  past  life  which  were  unknown  to  her,  but 
nothing  of  the  hospital  accident  in  1893.  Confidence  begets 
confidence.  She  listened  intently  to  the  story  which  made 
clear  the  conditions  in  which  she  had  found  herself  mys- 
teriously placed;  the  fact,  previously  incomprehensible, 
that  we  were  not  strangers,  but  friends  of  long  standing ; 
and  finally,  the  motives  of  those  of  us  who  were  interested 


in  her  welfare.  It  all  came  to  her  as  a  revelation,  and  she 
seemed  deeply  grateful.  For  the  first  time  she  became 
candid,  natural,  and  frank.  Apparently  desirous  of  coop- 
erating in  every  way,  without  knowing  that  I  had  already 
been  informed  by  Sally  {October  26),  she  told  her  side  of  the 
story  of  the  episode  of  June  7  (already  narrated) ,i  and  gave 
a  full  account  of  her  childhood  up  to  the  eventful  evening 
in  the  hospital  in  1893.  Of  this  early  hfe  she  exhibited 
a  complete  knowledge  up  to  that  date.  Now  for  the  first 
time  she  admitted  the  periods  of  amnesia  which  had  been 
proved  against  her  over  and  over  again,  and  explained  her 
apparent  knowledge  of  these  periods.  It  came  from,  first, 
what  had  been  told  her,  and  guessing  and  inferring  (she 
has  learned  from  friends  that  she  was  lately  taught  short- 
hand, and  is  thus  able  to  account  for  her  knowledge  of  this 
subject)  ;  second,  occasionally  from  certain  things  coming 
hazily  and  unconsciously  into  her  mind  out  of  the  nowhere, 
without  connection  with  anything  else ;  third,  from  volun- 
tarily producing  visions ;  and  fourth,  from  "  fixing  her 
mind."  She  gave  an  exhibition  of  the  last  method.  Her 
knowledge  of  her  life  in  college,  relatively  meagre  as  it  is, 
has  been  supplemented  by  frequent  references  made  to  it  by 
her  friends. 

In  all  these  ways  she  has  artfully  gained  considerable 
knowledge  of  certain  blank  periods  in  her  life  ;  enough  to 
convey  to  an  ordinary  observer  the  impression  that  she 
knows  all.  B  IV  —  she  can  no  longer  be  called  the  Idiot 
—  further  very  frankly  explained  her  motives  for  not  ad- 
mitting her  ignorance.  She  thought  that  she  would  veri- 
tably appear  as  an  "  idiot "  if  she  seemed  not  to  know  about 
herself.  As  most  of  her  present  acquaintances,  including 
myself,  are  strangers  to  her,  she  is  reticent  about  confiding 

*  This  was  the  occasion  described  in  Chapter  XIII,  when  IV  corroborated 
Sally's  statement,  and  had  the  crystal  vision  of  the  scene  outside  the  hospital 


her  affairs  to  them.  It  was  difficult,  she  went  on  to  say, 
to  realize  that  I  knew  her  well,  and  she  found  it  hard  to 
accommodate  herself  to  this  idea. 

As  B  IV  told  her  story,  her  whole  line  of  conduct  seemed 
consistent  with  rationalism  from  her  point  of  view.  It  is 
worth  while  pointing  out  here  that  the  accuracy  of  B  IV's 
statements  was  shown  by  the  fact  that  frequently  when  my 
memory  of  the  events  (which  I  knew  about  personally)* was 
at  fault,  B  IV  corrected  me,  and  always  rightly,  as  shown 
by  my  records.  B  IV  herself,  at  a  later  period,  analyzed  her 
conduct  in  a  way  that  gave  it  a  rational  interpretation. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  wrote,  "  I  can  hardly  analyze  my  conduct 
toward  you.  It  has  depended  partly  on  my  own  mood,  and 
partly  on  the  spirit  in  which  it  seemed  you  met  me.  I  dis- 
liked exceedingly  your  assuming  such  control  over  me,  as 
if  I  were  indeed  as  helpless  as  I  felt.  And  I  disliked,  too, 
your  continually  calling  me  to  account  for  things  I  had  said 
and  doire  —  things  I  could  not  possibly  remember  at  the  mo- 
ment, with  your  '  eagle  eye '  fixed  upon  me.  You  had  me 
at  the  greatest  disadvantage  always  —  a  disadvantage  which 
should  have  taught  me  humility  and  a  becoming  submission, 
I  suppose.  But  it  did  not.  It  simply  annoyed  and  irritated 
me,  and  made  me  determine  not  to  give  in  to  you.  I 
thought  you  could  not  know  the  things  you  asserted,  while 
practically  every  one  else  was  ignorant  of  them.  Your  as- 
sertions must  be  founded  on  the  same  bases  as  my  own, 
and  they  were  worth  no  more.  I  would  deny  everything, 
defy  you,  and  fight  it  out.  And  in  doing  this  I  quickly  saw 
that,  to  a  certain  extent  at  least,  I  was  right.  You  were 
puzzled.  You  half  believed  what  I  said.  And  so  I  kept 
on.  Does  this  make  it  clear  to  you?  Rather  a  disgraceful 
confession,  is  it  not?  but  you  would  have  it.  ...  I  believe 
—  I  do,  really  —  in  spite  of  the  preceding,  that  once  upon  a 
time  I  used  to  be  almost  morbidly  conscientious  in  regard  to 
the  truth,  even  refraining  from  the  use  of  many  conventional, 
every-day  —  " 


This  was  unfinished,  as  if  at  this  point  she  had  changed 
to  Sally  —  a  common  experience  with  the  two  superior 
members  of  the  family. 

B  IV  was  so  natural  and  simple  during  the  interview 
which  has  just  been  described,  and  explained  her  point  of 
view  so  logically,  that  the  hypothesis  that  she  was  the  real 
and  original  self  gained  greatly  in  favor.  The  evidence  for 
this  view  had  become  exceedingly  strong.  From  the  data 
thus  far  accumulated  it  seemed  fairly  certain  that  she  was 
the  real  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  therefore,  if  we  were  to  bring 
about  a  cure,  must  be  made  to  stay,  while  the  Miss  Beau- 
champ  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  the  object  of  our  care, 
had  been  educated  in  college,  had  been  the  solicitude  of 
many  friends,  who  belonged  to  a  circle  in  which  she  was 
literally  beloved  and  respected  by  every  one  with  whom  she 
was  brought  into  close  contact,  —  this  Miss  Beauchamp  was 
not,  properly  speaking,  a  real  person,  but  a  dissociated  per- 
sonality, a  quasi-somnambulist,  rightfully  distinguished  as 
B  I.  She  must  be  made  to  disappear,  to  go  back  into  the 
unknown  whence  she  came.  This,  under  the  hypothesis, 
seemed  to  be  the  hard  logic  of  events. 

The  situation  was  a  dramatic  one.  If  one  pauses  to  think 
over  all  that  this  meant,  and  to  apply  it  to  oneself  (for  each 
one  of  these  personalities  is  as  individual  as  any  one  of  us), 
one  can  realize  the  full  meaning  of  the  verdict  that  a  self, 
with  all  its  memories,  feelings,  and  sentiments,  must  be 
annihilated.     It  was  the  annihilation  of  the  individual. 

The  evidence  seemed  to  be  sufficiently  strong  to  justify 
the  hypothesis  being  accepted,  provisionally  at  least,  and 
B  I  was  condemned  to  be  sacrificed.  So  all  therapeutic 
effort  was  directed  toward  extinguishing  B  I  and  keeping 
B  IV  in  existence.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  during  the 
summer  and  autumn  the  new  character  had  tended  spon- 
taneously to  keep  more  and  more  in  existence,  while  Miss 
Beauchamp   receded   correspondingly  into  oblivion.     The 


latter's  discouragement  grew  as  she  found  herself,  not- 
withstanding improved  physical  health,  apparently  relaps- 
ing mentally  more  and  more.  What  we  thought  was  a 
return  to  health  (B  IV)  to  her  was  increasing  ailment. 
If  the  disagreeable  job  had  to  be  done,  the  quicker  and 
more  thoroughly  the  better.  So  again  and  again  by  sug- 
gestion she  was  changed  to  B  IV.  Sally's  cooperation 
was  also  secured ;  she  agreed  to  extinguish  B  I  as  often 
as  she  came,  and  to  transform  her  to  B  IV.  So  between 
us  B  I  had  but  few  moments  of  existence.  It  seemed  to 
her,  when  she  did  come,  that  her  malady  was  hopeless,  and 
her  discouragement  became  overwhelming. 

After  this  had  been  going  on  for  some  time  Sally,  who 
was  on  her  good  behavior  and  in  a  helpful  mood  (in  con- 
sequence of  a  threat  to  send  her  to  an  asylum),  one  day 
"  folded  herself  up,"  ^  fixed  her  thoughts  upon  B  I,  and 
as  she  did  so  a  change  came  over  her  and  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  in  her  place.  At  once  the  vivaciousness  and 
gayety  of  Sally  were  gone,  and  in  place  of  smiles  and  fun 
her  face  wore  an  expression  of  weariness  and  sadness. 
She  was  manifestly  agitated.  What  was  going  on  in  her 
mind  was  plain :  she  had  awakened  to  find  herself  in  my 
ofl&ce,  without  remembrance  or  knowledge  of  how  she 
got  there.  The  lights  were  burning,  so  that  she  knew 
it  was  late,  and  from  past  experience  guessed  that  she  had 
been  there  a  long  time  —  probably  since  early  afternoon  — 
and,  what  always  troubled  her,  had  absorbed  a  correspond- 
ing portion  of  my  time.  She  had  come  to  herself  for  the 
first  time  in  several  days,  and  the  consciousness  of  the  time 
she  had  lost,  and  of  the  increasing  frequency  of  her  relapses, 
showing  that  her  condition  was  growing  worse  instead  of 
better,  —  for  to  her  the  annihilation  of  self  was  increase  of 
disease,  —  all  this  gave  her  a  feeling  of  hopelessness  which 

1  Sally's  expression  for  patting  herself  into  a  state  of  abstraction  and 
changing  herself  to  B  I  or  to  B  IV. 


expressed  itself  in  her  face,  in  her  voice,  and  in  her  every 
movement.  It  was  impossible  to  explain  that  her  extinc- 
tion meant  the  growth  of  her  true  self,  of  whom  she  knew 

As  she  sat  before  me,  the  embodiment  of  nervousness, 
unable  to  keep  her  body  in  repose  a  single  second,  trying 
to  explain  why  she  had  come  (which  she  did  not  know), 
apologizing  for  detaining  me,  and  finally  wearily  telling,  in 
response  to  my  inquiry,  her  mental  troubles,  one  would  not 
have  been  human  not  to  sympathize  with  and  pity  her. 
She  told  of  how  she  was  unceasingly  losing  time  (what 
I  was  trying  to  bring  about),  until  she  knew  almost  noth- 
ing of  the  past  week,  of  what  she  had  done  or  what  new 
responsibilities  had  been  assumed.  For  the  first  time  she 
missed  the  letters  of  Sally,  for,  stinging  though  they  were, 
they  at  least  kept  her  informed  of  how  her  days  had  been 
passed.  Physically,  she  was  a  great  deal  better  than  she 
had  ever  been,  and  she  could  not  understand  why  she  was 
worse  mentally.  She  had  fought  the  fight,  she  said,  and 
had  done  her  best,  but  in  spite  of  all,  her  trouble  was 
increasing.  To  go  on  in  this  condition  was  impossible. 
It  would  trouble  no  one,  she  thought,  if  she  ended  her 
life,  and  she  felt  that  she  would  be  justified  in  doing  so. 

The  most  callous  must  have  been  moved  by  this  pathetic 
figure,  hopeless  and  dejected.  As  she  talked,  my  mind 
went  back  over  the  events  of  the  past  two  years.  I  re- 
membered all  that  she  had  gone  through — her  trials, 
anxieties,  and  physical  sufferings  —  and  the  unending 
patience  with  which  she  had  borne  not  only  the  physical 
ailments,  the  sleepless  nights  and  days  of  pain,  but  the 
false  positions  in  which  she  was  persistently  placed,  the 
constant  misconceptions  by  friends  of  her  character  and 
actions,  all  unexplainable  and  about  which  she  must  be 
silent,  the  taunts  and  jibes  aimed  at  herself  in  Sally's 
letters  which  she  believed  to  be  true,  and  the  loss  of  pre- 


cious  possessions,  to  say  nothing  of  the  countless  petty 
daily  annoyances,  like  the  destruction  of  the  product  of 
days  and  weeks  of  labor,  —  all  this  passed  through  my 
mind.  The  patience  with  which  it  had  been  borne  showed 
a  heroism  rarely  seen,  even  in  the  sick  room.  Though  it 
might  be  that  she  was  not  her  real  and  original  self,  she 
was  as  truly  an  individual  as  any  one  that  ever  lived.  She 
had  her  friends  and  associations,  equally  dear  to  her.  Now 
all  her  psychical  life  was  disappearing,  though  what  to 
her  was  only  deepening  mental  trouble  was  really,  as  we 
believed,  her  salvation,  the  bringing  of  her  true  self.  She 
could  not  be  told  this,  however.  It  would  be  impossi- 
ble for  her  to  be  satisfied  with  a  cure  which  was  self- 
annihilation  ;  and  not  only  the  annihilation  of  self,  but  of 
her  ideals  and  of  every  sentiment  and  thought  she  held 
dear.  It  would  be  useless  to  tell  her  that  she  would,  though 
another  character,  still  live,  for  that  still  meant  the  anni- 
hilation of  all  her  associations  and  memories  of  the  past 
six  years.  She  could  not  understand  who  or  what  she  was 
to  be,  and  how  could  this  be  sufficient  for  life  ?  It  meant 
too  that  she  would  become  a  character  of  whom  she  highly 
disapproved,  whose  actions  for  months  had  caused  her  infi- 
nite distress,  and  whose  conduct,  as  she  interpreted  it 
from  her  limited  data,  seemed  to  depart  from  the  high 
ideals  which  she  had  set  before  herself.  Such  a  character 
she  could  never  reconcile  herself  to  be. 

In  my  thoughts  the  annihilation  of  Miss  Beauchamp 
seemed  in  no  way  different  from  saying  that  she  must  be 
satisfied  with  death.  It  seemed  hard  to  tell  her  that  this 
annihilation  was  being  purposely  brought  about.  It  seemed 
kinder  to  let  her  disappear,  ignorant  of  her  coming  fate, 
unconscious  of  the  future  that  awaited  her  as  her  Real 
Self.  There  would  be  less  mental  pain  for  her,  —  and 
yet,  it  seemed  like  a  crime  we  were  committing.  It  was  a 
psychical  murder. 


Venturing  tentatively  to  hint  at  the  question  of  self- 
annihilation,  I  asked  her  whether  she  would  be  content  to 
get  perfectly  well,  at  the  sacrifice  of  all  memory  of  her  life 
from  the  hospital  episode  to  the  present  time,  remembering 
everything  before  that  event,  and  from  this  moment  on. 
As  she  thought  about  it  she  fell  into  a  state  of  revery  in 
which  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  my  voice.  Again  her  face 
changed :  the  expression  of  weariness  and  sadness  vanished, 
and  in  its  place  was  one  of  strength  and  self-reliance,  as 
of  one  quite  capable  of  wrestling  with  the  world.  When 
she  spoke  her  voice  too  had  changed,  no  longer  expressing 
discouragement,  but  the  manner  and  thought  of  a  person 
in  normal  relations  with  her  environment.  The  tone  was 
natural,  dignified,  and  indicative  of  self-confidence.  The 
character  of  the  personality  had  plainly  changed.  She  had 
no  shattered  ideals,  no  intensity  of  sentiment,  no  discour- 
agement from  overwhelming  obstacles,  but,  content  with 
the  conditions  as  she  found  them,  she  sought  only  to  pro- 
long her  own  personality.     It  was  B  IV. 

B  IV  appeared  to  great  advantage.  Her  conversation 
was  most  natural  and  rational  in  contrast  with  those  pre- 
vious interviews,  taken  up  as  they  had  been  with  tiresome 
debate.  In  extenuation  of  her  habit  of  bringing  visions, 
she  said  that  this  was  the  only  practical  way  she  had  of 
informing  herself  of  what  had  happened  in  her  life,  of  her 
relations  to  other  people  and  events.  She  then  went  on 
to  explain  the  embarrassing  positions  in  which  she  was 
constantly  being  placed.  She  would  find  herself  in  strange 
places  without  any  idea  of  how  she  got  there,  talking  to 
strange  people,  and  in  intimate  relationship  witli  persons 
whom  she  did  not  know.  People  talked  to  her  as  if  she 
were  familiar  with  things  of  which  she  knew  nothing,  and 
as  if  she  had  done  things  of  which  she  was  totally  igno- 
rant. She  was  thus  constiintly  placed  in  embarrassing 
positions,  and  was  afraid  of  appearing  like  an  idiot  if  she 


confessed  her  ignorance.  Thus  it  was  that  she  had  got 
into  the  habit  of  fishing,  inferring,  and  guessing ;  pretend- 
ing to  know  things  about  which  she  was  absolutely  ig- 
norant. She  most  frankly  described  how  she  quibbled, 
evaded,  guessed,  and  jumped  at  conclusions  which  were 
often  wrong.  Thus  the  habit  of  fibbing  had  grown  up  to 
conceal  her  ignorance. 

Believing  that  this  at  last  was  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp, 
I  told  her  she  was  entitled  to  know  everytliing,  and  in 
time  should  know  all  (meaning  the  phenomena  of  per- 
sonalities). I  then  explained  briefly  that  she  had  re- 
ceived a  shock  in  the  hospital  at  Providence  (emphasis 
being  put  upon  the  fright  from  the  lightning  and  from  the 
delirious  patient,  though  Jones  was  mentioned),  in  conse- 
quence of  which  she  had  changed,  and  that  now,  from  time 
to  time,  she  continued  to  change  so  as  to  lose  and  regain 
her  memories.  I  explained  the  two  personalities,  B  I  and 
B  IV,  but  said  nothing  of  Sally  or  of  the  real  shock.  To 
this  she  replied  that  if  this  were  all  she  was  content  to 
wait  for  a  full  explanation.  She  had  inferred  that  there 
had  been  some  terrible  calamity  which  we  were  trying 
to  keep  from  her. 

No  one,  hearing  the  conversation  and  regarding  her, 
could  have  recognized  anything  abnormal,  or  observed  in 
B  IV  any  characteristics  other  than  those  of  an  intelligent 
person.  She  was  not  discouraged,  as  was  Miss  Beau- 
champ  ;  only  annoyed  at  difficulties  to  be  overcome.  Her 
earnestness  in  telling  her  story  was  convincing.  Finally 
she  rose  to  go,  apparently  relieved  in  her  mind,  and  ready 
to  pursue  any  course  essential  for  a  cure.  As  she  went 
out  of  the  door  she  turned,  and  Sally's  face  smiled  at  me. 
"  Rubbish,"  said  Sally,  and  ran  off  laughing. 

And  it  waa  "rubbish,"  in  one  sense.  Although  B  IV 
spoke  the  truth,  she  was  not  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp 
after  all ;  neither  was  B  I. 



"TTTTTICHEVER  was  the  real  self,  B  I  or  B  IV,  the  other 
Y  V  was  a  dissociated  group  of  conscious  states,  and  the 
memories  lost  to  one  were  not  destroyed,  only  dissociated ; 
they  reappeared  when  the  proper  personality  awakened. 
But  this  knowledge  in  no  way  solved  the  problem.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  a  study  of  the  "  Idiot." 
This  study  was  continued  over  a  period  of  several  months, 
during  which,  against  every  obstacle,  a  fact  here  and  a  fact 
there  were  obtained,  until,  a  large  number  being  accumu- 
lated, each  was  fitted  in  so  far  as  possible  in  its  proper  place 
in  the  psychological  puzzle.  Some  of  these  data  bore  upon 
the  hypothesis  in  question,  while  others  threw  light  upon 
the  individuality  of  B  IV.  Sometimes  a  paradoxical  phe- 
nomenon would  be  observed,  like  that  of  the  remembrance 
by  the  Idiot  of  episodes  in  the  life  of  B  I  which  seemed 
to  controvert  the  apparently  esteiblished  amnesia.  Only 
later,  after  some  weeks  of  observation,  would  the  explana- 
tion of  the  paradox  be  discovered  in  phenomena  purposely 
concealed  from  me.  This  study,  indeed,  had  been  going 
on  for  some  weeks  before  the  secret  of  the  Providence  I 
catastrophe  was  wrung  out  of  the  personalities,  though  the 
probability  of  some  such  occurrence  had  been  suggested 
by  the  hypothesis  itself. 

Before  these  biographical  details  were  known,  the  ex- 
tent of  B  IV's  memory,  one  of  the  most  important  ques- 
tions to  be  solved,  had  already  been  determined. 

This  determination  of  memory  may  seem  easy  enough, 
but  the  inquiry  was  hampered,  as  already  pointed  out,  by 


two  circumstances :  first,  I V's  claim  that  she  remembered 
everything;  and  second,  the  fact  that  she  did  get  at  certain 
isolated  incidents  in  B  I's  career,  a  fact  which  was  paradox- 
ical, at  least,  and  seemed  to  substantiate  her  claim.  These 
latter  phenomena,  which  proved  in  fact  to  be  phenomena  of 
abstraction,  became  a  very  interesting  subject  of  study. 

As  to  the  first,  it  led  to  the  tiresome  sparring  at  every 
interview,  and  brought  out  the  curious  fact  that,  during 
the  early  months  at  least  of  her  career,  she  was  not  wholly 
conscious  of  the  gaps  in  the  continuity  of  her  memory  cor- 
responding to  those  times  when  B  I  and  Sally  were  on  the 
stage.  One  event  seemed  to  slide  into  the  next  without 
regard  to  the  interval  of  oblivion  which  really  existed  for 
times  when  she  changed  to  one  of  the  others.  Still,  this 
in  no  way  exonerates  her  from  the  persistent,  unyielding 
determination,  like  a  defeated  political  candidate,  to  admit 
nothing  and  claim  everything.  Every  interview  was  begun 
in  this  way.  It  was  only  by  convicting  her  out  of  her 
own  mouth  of  deliberate  fibbing  that,  staggered  by  the 
evidence,  she  would  break  down,  and  confess  the  ignorance 
she  exhibited.  Then  she  would  acquiesce  and  become 
obedient  —  until  the  next  interview. 

For  instance :  Sally  or  Miss  Beauchamp,  while  convers- 
ing would  change  to  the  Idiot,  who  at  once  would  be  put 
through  a  rigid  examination  as  to  the  events  of  the  pre- 
vious half-hour  or  so.  You  could  almost  see  lier  mind 
working,  as  she  first  parried  the  questions,  then  fished,  then 
guessed  and  inferred,  all  the  time  being  led  on  to  put  her- 
self deeper  in  the  mire.  Finally,  when  well  in,  she  would 
be  told  the  real  facts,  which,  as  they  had  occurred  under 
my  own  eye,  she  saw  there  was  no  use  in  denying.  Thus 
she  always  had  to  be  beaten  to  a  finish  before  she  could 
be  controlled.^ 

*  In  farther  corroboration  of  this  ignorance  were  her  actions,  which  were 
in  entire  accordance  therewith.     She  was  constantly  getting  herself  into 


The  sciuppy,  fragmentary,  and  apparently  paradoxical 
memory  of  the  life  of  B  I  which  she  manifested  was  at  first 
puzzling,  particularly  as  it  was  difficult  to  determine  how 
extensive  this  memory  was.  A  study  of  these  pamdoxi- 
cal  bits  of  memory  showed  that  they  could  be  divided 
into  three  classes  of  psychical  phenomena,  which  are 
of  importance  not  only  in  solving  the  riddle  of  Miss 
Beauchamp,  but  in  understanding  the  problem  of  multiple 
personality : 

(1)  those  which  were  a  spontaneous  synthesizing  with 
her  own  personal  self  of  isolated  fragmentary  memory  pic- 
tures belonging  to  B  I ;  (2)  those  which  were  phenomena 
of  abstraction;  (3)  those  which  were  artificially  induced 
visions,  —  so-called  "  crystal  visions." 

These  three  classes  differ  from  one  another  not  so  much 
in  principle  as  in  detail  and  process. 

The  first  class  comprised  memory  flashes  which  were 
perfectly  spontaneous,  uninfluenced  by  any  volitional  effort 
of  her  own.  They  were  the  emerging  into  her  mind  of 
isolated  memory  images,  such  as  a  name,  a  face,  or  a  place, 
which  seemed  to  come  from  out  of  nowhere,  without  any 
connection  with  anything  else.  These  did  not  bring  with 
them  any  extended  associations  and  were  unimportant  so 
far  as  affording  definite  aid  in  adapting  herself  to  her  envi- 
ronment went.  Finding  herself  speaking  with  an  apparent 
stranger,  for  instance,  the  correct  name  of  this  person 
would  flash  into  her  mind,  or  the  face  of  an  apparent 
stranger  in  a  street-car  would  suddenly  become  familiar, 
but  there  was  nothing  more  extensive  than  this.  Of  this 
character  was  the  recollection  (?)  and  mention  of  my  name 
on  the  evening  of  her  first  appearance,  June  7.  As  she 
afterwards  explained,  the  name  came  into  her  mind,  but  it 

trouble,  doing  things  entirely  ag<ainst  her  own  interests,  and,  like  B  I,  allow- 
ing herself  to  be  the  victim  of  Sally,  —  all  in  consequence  of  her  ignorance  of 
her  other  life. 


might  just  as  well  have  been  Smith,  Brown,  or  Robinson, 
for  all  that  it  conveyed  to  her.^     (Appendix  D.) 

The  second  class  of  memory  phenomena  was  due  to  an 
artifice  which  she  secretly  employed.  It  consisted  in  "  fix- 
ing her  mind,"  as  she  called  it ;  or,  more  technically,  using 
the  process  of  abstraction  in  the  same  way  that  it  is  used 
for  experimental  purposes  to  get  at  subconscious  ideas.  A 
specific  instance  will  give  an  idea  of  the  way  she  employed 
this  method  and  the  results  obtained : 

On  one  occasion  (October  20),  to  test  the  extent  of  her 
memory  for  the  past,  she  was  asked  if  she  could  remember 
the  first  time  I  saw  her.  I  supposed  that  she  would  men- 
tion the  incident  of  the  previous  June  7,  the  day  of  her 
first  appearance.  To  my  surprise,  she  described  with 
accuracy  the  day  when  Miss  Beauchamp,  while  a  student 
in College,  for  the  first  time  appeared  for  a  profes- 
sional consultation,  a  year  and  a  half  before.  She  stated 
the  various  ailments  of  which  Miss  Beauchamp  had  com- 
plained, and  the  details  of  the  prescriptions  and  directions 
given  her,  and  even  described  my  clothes. 

"  How  long  ago  was  that  ?  " 

"  It  was  four  or  five  years  ago  —  I  don't  remamber 
exactly."  Tries  hard  to  remember.  (Note  the  inability  to 
measure  the  time.) 

"  Through  whom  did  you  come  to  see  me  ?  " 

"Through  Miss  D.  —  Mrs.  X.  —  she  wasn't  Mrs.  X. 
then  — Miss  D."     (Correct.) 

Similarly,  B  IV  described  the  New  Haven  escapade  —  at 
least,  as  much  of  it  as  belonged  to  B  I  and  herself,  but 
nothing  of  Sally's  part.  At  first,  her  memory  was  very 
hazy,  but  by  taking  her  through  each  step  in  succession,  and 
by  allowing  her  to  think  hard  she  recalled  the  events.  On 
a  previous   occasion,  before  she  used  her  "  mind-fixing " 

»  Cliapter  XI,  p.  172. 


process,  she  could  not  recall  this  adventure.  This  memory, 
in  contrast  with  her  amnesia,  seemed  paradoxical. 

Here  was  evidence  of  quite  an  extensive  memory  of  the 
life  of  B  I,  showing  apparently  that  the  division  of  person- 
alities was  not  as  complete  as  previous  observations  had 
seemed  to  indicate.  At  the  time,  the  contradictory  evi- 
dence was  puzzling.  Later,  she  confessed  the  trick.  When 
she  appeared  to  the  onlooker  to  be  in  deep  thought  she 
was,  in  reality,  in  a  condition  of  abstraction. 

She  now  demonstrates  the  device  in  my  presence.  She 
puts  herself  into  a  condition  of  mental  abstraction,  appear- 
ing partly  oblivious  of  her  surroundings,  like  a  person  in 
deep  concentration  of  thought.  She  looks  straight  before 
her,  fixedly,  in  the  distance.  She  sees  me,  dressed  as  I  was 
then,  hears  my  voice  and  is  able  to  reproduce  the  whole 
scene  more  accurately  than  she  could  possibly  do  by  simple 
memory.      While  abstracted,  she  fails  to  hear  when  spoken  to. 

Later,  I  frequently  caught  her  trying  to  use  this  trick. 
When  prevented  from  falling  into  the  condition  of  ab- 
straction she  failed  to  remember. 

The  third  class  of  memory  phenomena,  that  of  visions, 
was  similar  in  every  way  to  the  crystal  visions  which  had 
been  experimentally  induced  in  Miss  Beauchamp. 

In  the  case  of  B  IV,  we  know  that  the  amnesia  was  not 
absolute,  because  the  lost  memories  were  retained  in  the 
mental  life  of  B  I.  But  suppose  that  B  I  had  not  reap- 
peared after  B  I V's  advent  —  should  we  have  been  justified 
in  concluding  that  the  memory  of  the  previous  six  years 
had  been  obliterated  for  good?  This  phenomenon  would 
have  proven  that  the  memories  of  B  I's  life  were  only  dis- 
sociated, and  that  by  a  proper  device  they  might  be  resyn- 
thesized.  In  principle,  the  amnesia  of  B  IV  and  B  I 
resembles  in  every  way  the  hysterical  anesthesia  which 
has  already  been  discussed,  only  that  the  amnesia  involv- 
ing large  groups  of  memory  experiences  is  more  complex. 


Some  observations   made  by  Dr.  Boris  Sidis  and  myself 

on  the  subject  M 1,^  already  mentioned,  may  be  cited 

in  evidence  of  dissociation  being  the  basis  of  hysterical 

amnesia.     M 1  was  put  artificially  into  a  state  in  which 

he  lost  all  memory  of  the  experiences  gained  during  the  pre- 
vious five  years,  including  his  knowledge  of  the  English 
language.  His  memories  were  only  those  which  he  pos- 
sessed five  years  previously,  while  he  was  Uving  in  his  home 
in  Russia.  He  therefore  believed  himself  to  be  sixteen 
years  old,  and  to  be  living  in  his  native  town.  He  under- 
stood and  spoke  only  his  native  dialect,  Russo-German. 

This  state  in  every  way  resembled  one  which  B  IV  spon- 
taneously entered  on  several  occasions  (Chapter  XXVI,  B 
IV  b)  when  she  thought  she  was  living  seven  or  eight 
years  before  in  Providence,  in  fact  was  living  in  the  hos- 
pital. Her  memories  were  limited  to  that  period.  Now 
to  show  that  in  the  case  of  M 1  the  memory  of  the  En- 
glish language  was  not  lost,  but  only  dissociated  from  the 
personal  consciousness  of  the  time  being,  and  that  it  could 
be  tapped  and  made  to  manifest  itself,  he  was  engaged  in 
conversation  in  his  native  tongue  by  Dr.  Sidis.  While  he 
was  thus  conversing,  I  stepped  behind  him  and  whispered 
in  his  ear  in  English  that  he  should  raise  his  right  hand. 
At  once  his  right  hand  was  raised.  Similarly  he  was  asked 
in  English  where  he  was  now  living.  In  the  midst  of  a 
German  sentence,  he  interpolated  the  answer  "  Boston." 
Although  his  personal  consciousness  did  not  understand 
the  words  addressed  in  English,  the  dissociated  conscious 
states  responded. 

Again  Miss  Beauchamp  falls  into  a  state  of  extreme  dis- 
integration (on  one  occasion  as  an  after  effect  of  etheriza- 
tion, and  on  another  from  causes  not  necessary  to  mention 
now).  She  does  not  recognize  me  or  her  suiToundings,  nor 
know  her  own  name.     She  does  not  know  the  day  of  the 

1  Boston  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal,  June  23,  1904. 


week,  and  little  or  nothing  about  herself.  She  is  in  a  de- 
lirious state,  showing  some  temper  when  restrained,  and 
keeps  repeating  a  stereotyped  phrase  over  and  over  again 
in  a  most  tiresome  way,  "  Let  me  go,"  "  Let  me  go."  Eveiy 
question  brings  out  only  this  response.  I  whisper  in  her 
ear  that  she  is  to  answer  my  questions  by  raising  her  right 
hand  for  "yes"  and  her  left  hand  for  "no."  She  is  then 
asked  in  a  whisper  the  day  of  the  week,  the  days  being 
slowly  recited  to  her.  When  the  correct  day,  Thursday, 
is  mentioned,  the  right  hand  is  raised,  while  the  left  is 
raised  when  the  other  days  are  mentioned,  this  in  the  midst 
of  the  eternal  repetition  of  her  tiresome  phrase.  In  this 
way  she  signals  she  does  not  want  to  go,  recognizes  my 
name  and  the  place  where  she  is,  and  gives  much  other 
information,  showing  the  momentary  presence  of  a  dissoci- 
ated sane  consciousness  coexisting  with  the  poor  dissociated 
one.  In  the  same  way  she  answers  by  speech.  The  deli- 
rious consciousness  was  unaware  of  the  whispered  ques- 
tions and  of  the  subconscious  sane  replies.  The  second 
consciousness,  as  was  afterwards  shown,  was  not  Sally. 
Such  observations  show  the  character  of  this  kind  of  am- 
nesia, but  in  these  experiments  no  attempts  were  made  at 
synthesizing  the  disintegrated  fragments  of  consciousness. 

These  phenomena  confirm  what  Janet  has  so  strongly 
insisted  upon  as  the  characteristic  of  hysterical  amnesia ; 
namely,  that  from  one  point  of  view  it  is  not  amnesia  at  all, 
that  the  lost  memories  are  conserved,  but  so  dissociated  from 
the  personal  consciousness  that  they  cannot  be  recalled. 
They  can,  however,  be  awakened  as  automatic  phenomena. 

The  classical  case  of  Mme.  D.  is  a  good  illustration  of 
extensive  amnesia  of  this  kind  in  an  otherwise  intelligent 
mind.  It  was  studied  by  Charcot,^  and  later  by  Souques,^ 
and  Janet.^     On  August  28, 1891,  the  poor  woman  received 

1  Revue  de  Mcdecine,  February,  1892.        *  Revue  de  Medecine,  May,  1892. 
8  Mental  State  of  Hystericals,  p.  90. 


a  terrible  mental  shock.  She  was  working  in  her  house 
when  suddenly  a  strange  man  entered  and  roughly  called 
out  to  her,  "  Your  husband  is  dead.  They  are  bringing 
him  home.  Prepare  a  bed,  Madame  D."  The  news  was 
false,  but  the  neighbors  assembled  and  there  was  much 
emotional  excitement.  In  the  midst  of  it  one  of  the 
women,  seeing  the  husband  approaching  in  the  distance, 
was  unfortunate  enough  to  cry  out,  "  There  he  is ! "  On 
hearing  these  words,  Mme.  D.,  believing  that  her  hus- 
band was  being  brought  home  dead,  fell  into  a  hysterical 
attack,  characterized  by  delirium  and  convulsions.  This 
attack  lasted  three  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time  Madame 
D.  came  to  herself,  but  then  it  was  found  that  a  curious 
thing  had  happened.  She  had  forgotten  everything  that 
had  occurred  since  July  14,  six  weeks  previous  to  the 
shock,  —  a  retrograde  amnesia.  But  this  was  not  all.  She 
continued  to  forget  everything  that  happened,  everything 
she  experienced,  as  fast  as  it  occurred,  hour  by  hour  and 
minute  by  minute.  (This  is  called  continuous  amnesia.) 
She  lived  her  life  as  usual,  but  under  the  restrictions  of 
this  amnesia,  which  lasted  nine  months,  until  May,  1892. 
Among  other  experiences  she  was  bitten  by  a  mad  dog,  and 
was  taken  to  Paris  to  the  Pasteur  Institute  to  be  immun- 
ized. Her  husband,  taking  advantage  of  her  being  in  Paris, 
brought  her  to  Charcot,  at  the  Salpetriere,  November  23. 
She  had  no  recollection  whatever  of  anything  that  had 
taken  place  subsequent  to  July  14.  For  everything  pre- 
vious to  that  date  her  memory  was  good.  She  remembered 
nothing  of  the  accident  that  caused  her  troubles,  nothing  of 
being  bitten  by  the  dog,  of  the  journey  to  Paris,  or  of  being 
treated  at  the  Pasteur  Institute.  Later,  after  having  been 
some  time  at  the  hospital,  she  could  not  remember,  at  any 
particular  moment,  where  she  was,  or  recall  the  names  of 
those  whom  she  daily  met.  Charcot  was  the  sole  exception. 
She  had  seen  his  portrait  before  July  14,  and  remembered 
his  face.     (Appendix  E.) 


Now  it  was  easy  to  show  that  these  lost  memories  were 
only  dissociated,  and  not  absolutely  effaced.  In  the  first 
place  the  patient  was  heard  to  talk  in  her  sleep ;  that  is, 
she  dreamed  about  events  which  had  occurred  during  the 
periods  of  the  retrograde  and  anterograde  amnesia.  "  That 
dirty  dog,"  for  instance,  she  said,  "  he  has  bitten  me  and 
torn  my  dress."  In  the  second  place,  when  hypnotized 
she  recalled  all  the  forgotten  events  and  related  them  with 
exactness.  She  recounted  the  scene  of  August  28,  the 
bite  of  the  dog,  her  arrival  in  Paris,  her  inoculation  against 
rabies,  her  visits  in  Paris,  her  entrance  in  the  Salpetriere, 
etc.,  with  striking  care  and  accuracy. 

It  thus  was  shown  that  in  hypnosis  the  memories  of  past 
experiences  were  associated  among  themselves,  systema- 
tized, and  preserved,  as  if  in  the  memory  of  a  second  per- 
sonaUty.  Janet,  experimenting  still  further  on  the  same 
subject,  showed  that  the  lost  memories  could  be  recovered 
in  the  waking  state  by  the  process  of  abstraction  and  auto- 
matic writing.  The  memorial  images,  therefore,  were  not 
obliterated  but  were  merely  dissociated  from  the  wak- 
ing personality.  It  required  only  a  device  to  awaken 
the  systematized  memories,  dissociated  from  the  personal 

But  the  facts  were  something  more  than  this.  It  was 
not  alone  that  by  an  artifice  Mme.  D.  was  made  to  recall 
what  she  had  forgotten.  We  do  this  in  a  different  way 
every  day  of  our  lives.  It  is  rather  that  at  a  time  when 
the  subject  is  unable  to  remember  anything  of  a  certain 
period,  at  this  same  time  while  in  another  state,  she  pos- 
sesses completely  the  lost  memories,  and  loses  them  again 
when  she  goes  back  to  the  waking  state.  With  the  alter- 
nating states  there  is  an  alternation  of  memory  and  amnesia, 
but  during  amnesia  the  memories  almost  seem  to  be  wait- 
ing, as  it  were,  to  be  recalled  by  the  proper  signal  or 


The  case  of  Mr.  Hanna,  studied  by  Sidis  and  Goodhart,* 
also  illustrates  this  principle.  Mr.  Hanna,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, in  consequence  of  a  slight  accident,  suddenly, 
like  Mary  Reynolds,  lost  all  recollection  of  his  previous 
life.  When  he  came  to  himself  he  could  remember  nothing 
that  he  had  learned.  He  could  not  understand  or  speak 
the  English  language.  The  names  of  objects,  and  even  their 
uses,  were  unknown  to  him.  He  did  not  know  the  mean- 
ing of  an  apple,  or  a  pencil,  or  anything  else.  Even  spatial 
relations  were  not  recognized.  The  objective  world  seemed 
flat,  and  without  perapective.  In  short,  as  far  as  his  mem- 
ory went,  his  mind  was  that  of  an  infant ;  but  it  was  that 
of  an  adult  in  its  capacity  to  think,  to  reason,  and  to  form 
judgments.  It  became  necessary  to  begin  his  education 
over  again,  as  with  a  child,  teaching  him  to  speak,  to  un- 
derstand, to  write,  and  to  recognize  objects  and  their 

By  the  process  of  abstraction  —  for  which  Sidis  coins  the 
word  hypnoidization  —  vivid  memory-pictures  were  awak- 
ened. Hanna  was  made  to  close  his  eyes,  to  "  listen  with 
all  possible  effort  and  attention  to  the  reading  of  the 
Hebrew  "  scriptures,  or  anything  else.  While  his  atten- 
tion is  thus  distracted  "events,  names  of  persons,  of 
places,  sentences,  phrases,  whole  paragraphs  of  books  totally 
lapsed  from  memory,  and  in  languages  the  very  words  of 
which  sounded  bizarre  to  his  ears  and  the  meaning  of 
which  was  to  him  inscrutable  —  all  that  flashed  lightning- 
like on  the  patient's  mind.  So  successful  was  this  method, 
that  on  one  occasion  the  patient  was  frightened  by  the 
flood  of  memories  that  rose  suddenly  from  the  obscure  sub- 
conscious regions,  deluged  his  mind,  and  were  expressed 
aloud,  only  to  be  forgotten  the  next  moment.     To   the 

*  Multiple  Personality  (D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1905);  p.  95  et  seq.     See  also 
"The  Psychology  of  Snggestiou,"  by  Boris  Sidi.s,  1898. 


patient  himself  it  appeared  as  if  another  being  took  posses- 
-  sion  of  his  tongue."  ^  As  with  B  IV,  sometimes  these 
memories,  instead  of  being  complex  pictures,  were  scrappy, 
—  mere  flashes  in  the  pan.^ 

The  "  mind-fixing  "  remembrances  of  B  IV  have  their 
counterpart  in  these  and  similar  observations.  The  condi- 
tion of  abstraction  into  which  B  IV  put  herself  was  one 
of  semi-hypnosis,  —  one  in  which  experimentation,  in  her 
case  as  well  as  in  Mr.  Hanna's,  has  shown  it  is  easy  for 
sensory  automatisms,  that  is,  visual  and  auditory  repre- 
sentations, or  memorial  pictures  of  past  experiences,  to 
arise.  These  memory-pictures  were  the  same  in  principle 
as  those  which  flashed  into  B  IV's  consciousness  when  she 
"  fixed  her  mind,"  and  the  method  was  the  same.  There 
was  this  difference :  with  Hanna  these  revived  experiences 
were  never  recognized  as  in  any  way  familiar;  in  B  IV's 
case  the  synthesis  of  memory  with  the  personal  conscious- 
ness was  more  complete,  for  the  visualized  and  other 
memories  were  recognized  as  her  own  experiences  and 
remembered  as  her  own. 

In  the  case  of  B  IV  the  spontaneous  "scrappy"  mem- 
ories were  of  the  same  nature,  though  they  did  not  occur 
in  states  of  abstraction,  but  more  closely  resembled  ordinary 
but  partial  memory.  They  were  the  incomplete  synthe- 
sizing of  the  dissociated  memories  belonging  to  state  B  I. 
The  difficulty  in  determining  all  this  was  due  to  the  per- 
sistent concealment  of  the  facts  by  B  IV. 

Associated  with  this  class  of  memory  flashes  there  was 

often  experienced  another  phenomenon  which  was  liable  to 

be  the  cause  of  embarrassment.     The  recognition  of  this 

•    phenomenon  is  of  practical  importance  as  it  is  not  rarely 

observed  in  the  neurasthenic  psychoses.     It  was  the  sudden 

^  The  Psychology  of  Suggestion,  Boris  Sidis ;  p.  224. 
2  Multiple  Personality,  p.  143. 


awakening  of  an  apparently  paradoxical  emotion  in  connec- 
tion with  a  strange  person  or  place,  or  in  consequence  of  a 
reference  by  some  one  to  an  apparently  unknown  event. 
Or,  the  emotion  might  arise  in  connection  with  a  memory 
flash,  but  in  neither  case  was  there  to  B  IV  any  account- 
able reason  for  the  emotion.  It  can  be  imagined  that  the 
experiences  were  disagreeable  enough.  To  find  yourself 
suddenly,  without  rhyme  or  reason,  feeling  an  intense  emo- 
tion in  connection  with  something  or  other  which  you 
scarcely  remember  to  have  seen  or  heard  of  before  is 
annoying,  at  least. 

The  explanation  was  not  difficult.  These  experiences 
were  plainly  emotional  automatisms,  and,  as  such,  associa- 
tion phenomena  connected  with  experiences  in  the  life  of 
B  I.  They  belonged  to  a  class  of  phenomena  which  I  have 
termed  association  neuroses.^  They  differed  essentially  from 
the  subconscious  fears  described  in  Chapter  VIII.  Those 
emotions  belonged  to  ideas  which  were  subconscious,  and 
invaded  the  waking  consciousness  without  the  memories  to 
which  they  were  attached.  But  B  I's-  mental  life  was  not 
subconscious  in  respect  to  B  IV.  It  was  dissociated,  for- 
gotten, but  not  subconscious.  These  paradoxical  emotions 
were  not,  then,  excited  by  subconscious  memories,  but  by 
perceptions  (of  persons,  places,  etc.)  which  were  in  the  pri- 
mary consciousness.  The  memories  associated  with  these 
perceptions  belonged  entirely  nevertheless  to  B  I's  con- 
sciousness and  therefore  were  forgotten  ;  nevertheless  the 
visual,  auditory,  and  other  images  of  a  person  or  a  place, 
or  whatever  it  might  be,  aroused  in  B  IV,  in  spite  of  her 
amnesia,  the  emotions  which  had  been  previously  associated 
by  B  I  with  these  images.  The  visual  image  of  anything 
with  which  any  emotion  had  been  associated  in  B  I  re- 

1 "  Association  Nenroses,"  Jonm.  of  Nervons  and  Mental  Diseases,  May, 
1891.  "Three  Cases  of  Association  Neuroses,"  John  E.  Donley,  M.  D. 
Boston  Med.  and  Sorg.  Jonrn.,  Nov.  3,  1904. 


excited  in  B  IV  that  emotion,  although  the  associated  expe- 
rience had  belonged  to  B  I. 

The  same  thing  in  principle  one  frequently  observes  as  a 
neurosis  in  so-called  neurasthenics.  Mrs.  W.,  for  instance, 
while  passing  a  certain  house,  suddenly  experienced  an  emo- 
tional symptom-complex  (palpitation,  feeling  of  suffocation, 
general  exhaustion,  etc.).  She  had  not  noticed  the  neigh- 
borhood and  did  not  consciously  recognize  the  house,  which 
resembles  in  design  the  neighboring  houses  in  the  same 
block.  Startled  by  her  symptoms,  she  looked  up,  half  in 
search  of  a  cause,  and  then  for  the  first  time  recognized  the 
house  she  had  just  passed  as  a  private  hospital  where  three 
years  before  she  had  had  a  very  harrowing  experience  con- 
nected with  her  child's  illness.  Associations  of  the  hospital 
are  so  unpleasantly  strong  that  she  cannot  bring  herself 
even  to  engage  a  nurse  connected  with  it.  This  experience 
is  similar  to  numerous  others  of  the  same  kind  which  Mrs. 
W.  has  had  and  in  which  the  same  symptoms  have  been  ex- 
cited by  association  of  ideas.  The  explanation  of  this  par- 
ticular experience  which  first  suggests  itself  is  that  Mrs.  W. 
subconsciously  recognized  the  hospital  as  she  was  passing, 
and  that  the  subconscious  unpleasant  memories  aroused  the 
symptoms.  But  a  careful  examination  in  hypnosis  failed 
to  show  any  subconscious  recognition  or  any  perceptions 
different  from  those  of  the  waking  consciousness.  We 
are  forced  to  conclude  that  the  peripheral  visual  images  of 
the  house  alone  by  pure  association  aroused  the  emotional 
symptom  complex,  as  an  automatism. 

Aside  from  the  interest  of  unravelling  the  mysteries  of 
a  particular  case,  the  psychological  importance  of  these 
isolated  memory-pictures  lies  in  the  light  they  throw  upon 
the  problem  of  multiple  personalities.  They  indicate  the 
purely  dissociative  character  of  the  amnesia.  In  the  par- 
ticular case  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  we  know  that  when  B  IV 
was  present,  the  memories  of  B  I  were  not  effaced,  for  B 


I  alternated  with  B  IV,  and  on  the  former's  reappearance 
the  memories  of  that  personality's  life  were  regained,  and 
B  IV's  experiences  in  turn  dissociated. 

But  suppose,  as  I  have  said  above,  the  case  had  not 
come  under  observation  until  after  the  appearance  of  B  IV 
on  the  night  of  June  7,  and  that  she  had  not  again  re- 
verted to  Miss  Beauchamp  (B  I).  It  might  then  have  been 
hastily  concluded  that  B  IV's  amnesia  for  the  preceding 
six  years  showed  that  the  memory  for  this  period  had  been 
absolutely  effaced.^  The  phenomena  we  have  been  de- 
scribing would  have  shown  that  such  was  not  the  case,  but 
that  they  were  only  dissociated  from  a  particular  personal 
consciousness,  and  for  some  unknown  reason  a  complete 
synthesis  could  not  be  made. 

In  thus  explaining  these  memory  phenomena  Sally  has 
been  left  out  of  account.  There  never  has  been  any  evi- 
dence that  Sally's  memories  were  the  source  of  B  IV's 
"  mind-fixing  "  or  "  scrappy  "  memories.  If  this  had  been 
the  case,  it  is  inconceivable  that  the  regained  memories 
should  not  have  included  some  of  Sally's  own  experiences 
as  well  as  those  of  B  I.  This  was  never  the  case.  B  IV 
never  recalled  any  facts  by  these  processes  other  than  those 
of  B  I's  life,  never  one  of  Sally's.  This  is  a  curious  and 
interesting  fact.  The  process  of  abstraction  failed  to  re- 
vive any  memories  pertaining  to  Sally's  existence.  With 
true  visions  it  was  different.  By  this  method  she  occa- 
sionally got  at  Sally's  experiences.  For  instance,  she  once 
saw  herself  (in  a  vision)  as  Sally  driving  in  a  carriage  with 
a  friend.  The  reason  for  this  difference  is  not  entirely 
clear,  but  the  facts  corresponded  with  certain  results 
obtained  by  myself  experimentally. 

The  "  mind-fixing "  phenomena  were  largely  the  result 
of  memorizing  processes.     The  pictures  which  she  called 

1  Assoming  also  there  was  no  third  personality  (Sally),  as  is  often  the 


up  were  vivid,  to  be  sure,  as  in  visions, —  more  vivid  than 
occurs  in  ordinary  memory,  but  the  visualized  experiences 
were  remembered  as  experiences  of  her  own.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  visions  were  pure  automatisms,  excrescences  in  her 
mind,  without  conscious  association  with  the  other  experi- 
ences of  the  life  which  they  pictured.  When  seeing  a  vision 
she  did  not  recognize  the  pictorial  experiences  as  her  own, 
even  though  it  was  of  B  I's  life;  there  was  no  sense 
of  memory  connected  with  it. 

Now  it  was  found  experimentally  easy  to  amalgamate  by 
suggestion  the  dissociated  experiences  of  B  I  with  those 
of  B  IV  so  that  they  were  remembered,  but  impossible  to 
amalgamate  Sally's  with  either.  These  latter  could  ex- 
perimentally only  be  awakened  as  sensory  automatisms  (for 
example,  vision  of  Sally  smoking  cigarettes).  CoiTespond- 
ing  therefore  to  these  results,  B  IV  could  by  "  mind  fixing  " 
synthesize  with  herself  some  of  B  I's  experiences,  but  the 
same  method  failed  to  do  this  with  those  of  Sally.  She 
could  get  from  Sally's  life  only  a  vision,  which  still  remained 
without  conscious  relation  to  any  part  of  her  life.* 

1  For  an  interesting  theory  of  hallucinations,  see  "  An  Inquiry  into  the 
Nature  of  Hallucinations,"  by  Boris  Sidis,  Psychological  Review,  Vol.  XI. 
No.  I,  January,  1904. 



November,  1899 

VERY  little  has  been  said  since  Sally's  arrival  about 
B  II,  and  little  more  than  a  reference  has  been  made 
to  the  fact  that  the  Idiot  could  be  hypnotized,  and  that 
this  was  habitually  done  for  therapeutic  purposes.  As  to 
B  II,  the  fact  is,  little  had  been  seen  of  her  since  Sally's 
advent.  Sally,  whether  with  premeditation  or  not,  almost 
always  came  in  her  place  when  B  I  was  hypnotized,  and 
being  the  most  interesting  personality,  and  the  one  who 
tfcad  to  be  reckoned  with,  I  got  into  the  way  of  calling  for 
this  young  woman.  Still,  a  state  of  hypnosis  which  was 
supposed  to  be  the  original  B  II  was  occasionally  obtained. 
It  was  never  encouraged  to  develop  any  spontaneity,  but 
was  made  to  remain  with  the  eyes  closed,  answering  ques- 
tions, and  receiving  therapeutic  suggestions.  Under  the 
circumstances  there  was  no  reason  to  suspect  that  it  was 
not  the  original  B  II. 

When  B  IV  was  hypnotized  she  went  into  deep  hypnosis. 
A  very  extraordinary  change  came  over  her.  When,  in 
the  original  observation,  B  I  was  changed  to  B  II  the  lat- 
ter retained  all  the  fundamental  characteristics  of  B  I. 
When  B  IV  was  h3rpnotized  her  character  became  com- 
pletely metamorphosed :  no  longer  hostile  and  reticent,  but 
friendly  and  frank,  she  ceased  to  prevaricate,  and  made  no 
effort  to  conceal  her  thoughts  or  the  facts  of  her  life.  She 
answered  questions  freely  and  openly,  frankly  confessing 
her  ignorance  as  B  IV  and  the  falseness  of  her  pretences. 


She  stated,  for  instance,  that  what  she  had  said  a  moment 
before  as  B  IV  was  not  true,  and  that  as  B  IV  she  had  no 
knowledge  whatever  of  what  had  occurred  in  the  room 
when  B  I  and  Sally  were  present.  She  was  docile  and 
obedient,  accepting  suggestions  without  remonstrance. 
For  purposes  of  convenience  this  state  was  labelled  B  VI. ^ 
On  waking  B  IV  had  complete  amnesia  for  this  state.  Of 
course  the  same  was  true  of  B  I. 

Beyond  this,  B  VI  had  not  been  particularly  studied  at 
this  time,  being  looked  upon  as  a  simple  hypnotic  state. 
A  discovery  was  soon  to  be  made  which  was  not  only 
psychologically  instructive,  but  was  to  give  an  entirely  new 
aspect  to  the  problem. 

On  November  5,  1899,  B  VI  was  present  for  awhile; 
then,  changing  to  Sally,  the  latter  was  hypnotized  and 
transformed  in  turn  to  B  I.  B  I  was  now  put  into  hypno- 
sis, and  became  B  II, — the  original  B  II,  as  was  supposed. 

I  was  in  the  act  of  giving  B  II  some  suggestions  abt  t 
sleeping,  when  suddenly  Sally  bounced  out  and  exclaimed 
excitedly,  "Oh,  Dr.  Prince,  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I 
think  the  Idiot  hypnotized  is  the  same  person  as  B  I  hyp- 
notized, for  I  know  the  Idiofs  thoughts  when  she  is  asleep 
just  as  I  do  B  Ts  then.     I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  think  so." 

We  talked  it  over,  and  I  pointed  out  to  Sally  that  if  her 
discovery  should  turn  out  to  be  true,  then  the  memory  of 
B  II  must  be  the  same  as  that  of  B  VI,  and  vice  versa. 
As  B  II  knew  all  about  B  I,  and  B  VI  knew  all  about 
B  IV,  then  this  combined  hypnotic  self  must  know  all 
about  both  B  I  and  B  IV.  It  was  agreed  that  observa- 
tions should  be  made  to  test  the  theory,  and  then  Sally 
"folded  herself  up,"  and  disappeared  to  watch  the  game. 
Sally's  discovery  was  most  exciting.  Even  Sally,  the 
hater  of  psychology,  caught  the  contagion  of  the  chase 
for  the  moment.     If  it  was  true  we  might  at  last  have  a 

*  B  V  was  Sally  hypnotized. 


clue  to  the  solution  of  the  mystery;  a  solution,  that  is, 
which  would  explain  the  relationship  of  the  different  per- 
sonalities and  disclose  the  real  self.  B  VI  would  be  more 
than  simply  B  IV  in  hypnosis.  Her  memory  would  be  as 
complete  as  that  of  both  the  other  personalities,  B  I  and 
B  IV,  put  together,  a  synthesis  of  the  two;  and  as  her  char- 
acter manifestly  differed  (for  the  better,  thank  Heaven!) 
from  that  of  B  IV,  she  might  he  another  personality  (in 
hypnosis') ,  perhaps  the  real  one  we  had  been  seeking.  In  this 
personality,  too,  all  the  experiences  of  the  two  others  would 
be  already  organized.  It  was  plain,  if  the  discovery  should 
be  verified,  that  an  alternative  theory  offered  itself  in  place 
of  the  one  that  made  B  IV  the  real  self. 

The  import  of  the  discovery  occurred  entirely  indepen- 
dently to  Sally,  for  the  next  day  she  wrote  the  following 
letter  setting  forth  the  new  theoiy  as  her  own.  Though 
psychologically  crude,  it  expresses  quite  clearly  some  of  the 
facts  we  expected  to  prove.  It  will  be  noticed  that,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  Sally  wobbles,  abandoning  her  previous  theory 
that  B  IV  is  the  real  self,  and  harks  back  to  her  old 
insistence  that  the  "  Idiot "  is  not  a  real  person. 

"  '  Tis  the  voice  of  the  lobster.* 

[Nor.  6,  1899.] 
"  Start  with  Miss  B.  and  the  'Idiot,'  and  call  them  number  one 
and  number  two.  Hypnotized  each  becomes  number  threcy^  and 
this  number  three  remembers  everything  concerning  both  one  and 
two.  Then  can't  one  call  number  three  the  real,  complete  Miss 
B.  ?  But  one  is  n't  sure  whether  this  number  three  on  being 
awakened  will  become  number  one  or  two.  Putting  it  that  way 
is  confusing.  It  is  simpler  if  you  say  that  one  can't  be  sure 
whether  number  three  on  being  awakened  will  or  will  not  remem- 
ber all  that  has  happened  since  that  shock  in  '  Providence.'  If 
she  does  remember,  she  becomes  number  one^  if  she  does  n't  then 
she  's  number  two.     But  I  still  think  there  is  n't  a  number  two 

1  Called  II  in  this  accoant. 


[Idiot]  properly  speaking  —  not  a  real  person  —  distinct  from 
number  one.  For  number  two  only  appears  when  certain  old 
memories  are  recalled.  She  is  like  number  one  in  a  rattled  and 
irresponsible  condition,  does  remember  number  one's  life  in 
some  way  other  than  by  getting  it  through  visions,  remembers 
it  at  least  as  well  as  she  does  her  own.  Also  number  one 
knows  much  of  number  iwo,  which  is  one  reason  she  thinks 
she  loses  so  much  less  time  than  she  really  does.  How  does 
she  know  it?  How  does  number  two  get  her  scrappy  informa- 
tion unless  from  three  where  they  (one  and  two,  that  is)  become 
three  f  I  dare  say  my  reasoning  seems  very  absurd  to  you. 
It  does  to  me  rather,  for  I  don't  seem  to  have  expressed  it 
clearly  as  it  is  in  my  mind.  I  am  too  squeezed  —  worse  than 
ever  before  in  my  short  existence.    Amen.     S.  B.     49." 

Sally's  language  implies  that  Miss  Beauchamp  and  the 
Idiot  had  more  knowledge  of  each  other  than  they  really 
had;  more  than  Sally  intended  to  suggest,  for  she  did  not 
know  the  Idiot's  thoughts.  This  knowledge  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  and  as  Sally  says,  only  "scrappy,"  welling  up 
into  consciousness  from  apparently  nowhere.  This  was 
further  demonstrated  by  the  fact  that  this  knowledge  on 
the  part  of  one  of  the  personalities  did  not  follow  imme- 
diately the  events  of  the  other's  life,  but  came  only  after 
long  intervals,  rising  as  out  of  a  mist.  At  most,  it  was 
indeed  "scrappy,"  with  great  blanks  when  the  cleavage 
of  memory  was  complete;  as,  for  example,  when  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  "gone  "  for  the  month  of  August  she  lost 
this  amount  of  time  completely  out  of  her  life,  without  a 
vestige  of  memory  of  it  at  the  time  of  her  return.  Another 
instance  is  contained  in  Miss  Beauchamp' s  letter  of  Sep- 
tember 24,  in  which  she  savs : 

"  There  is  little  I  can  tell  you,  for  I  have  lost  most  of  the 
time  since  the  evening  of  the  twelfth  [12  days],  only  coming 
to  myself  for  a  few  hours  on  Friday  last,  and  again  this 


Sally  more  correctly  expressed  the  facts  of  memory  the 
next  day  in  a  second  statement  of  the  theory,  which  may 
be  epitomized  as  follows,  the  nomenclature  being  that  used 
in  this  account: 

Let  X  =  the  real  original  Miss  Beauchamp.  Then  X  is  B  II 
or  B  VI,  who  are  one  and  the  same. 

X  wakes  and  becomes  B  I  or  B  IV,  but  B  III  cannot  tell 
which  will  come  to  the  front. 

Both  B  I  and  B  IV  can  get  at  sorne  of  the  experiences  of 
each  other,  but  B  III  does  not  know  to  what  extent  each  can 
do  this. 

B  I  tends  to  get  rattled  and  pass  into  B  IV  when  incidents 
occur  which  tend  to  make  her  mind  dwell  on  a  certain  "  cause 
of  perturbation." 

My  theory  that  B  II  (B  VI)  might  be  the  Real- Miss 
Beauchamp  was  subject  to  one  difficulty.  By  the  theory, 
if  we  hypnotize  B  I  and  B  IV  they  become  synthesized 
to  the  real  self  in  hypnosis.  If  this  self  be  waked  up  it 
ought  to  remain  X ;  yet,  in  fact,  on  waking  B  II  becomes, 
not  X,  but  dissociated  into  either  B  I  or  B  IV  again.  Why 
should  not  B  II,  if  she  is  the  real  self,  remain  synthesized 
and  become  X  on  being  awakened?  As  we  shall  see,  this 
has  great  significance. 

As  has  been  said,  Sally's  discovery  of  the  identity  of 
B  II  and  B  VI,  if  verified,  was  of  the  utmost  value.  It 
might  prove  to  be  the  long  sought  for  key  to  the  riddle ; 
or,  at  any  rate,  it  would  make  intelligible  several  appar- 
ently paradoxical  phenomena,  and  might  lead  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  real  self.  All  previous  hypotheses  were  in 
doubt.  Not  only  B  I  but  B  IV  might  have  to  go,  to  give 
way  to  a  stranger  whom  we  had  never  seen,  but  who  in 
hypnotic  sleep  might  be  B  II  (B  VI).  What  sort  of  a 
person  would  this  prove  to  be  ? 

The  next  day,  November  8,  an  opportunity  was  offered 
to  test  the   theory   of  the   identity  of  B  VI  and  B  II. 


B  IV  was  hypnotized  and  changed  to  the  hypnotic  self, 
B  VI.  Was  this  self  identical  with  B  II  ?  That  was  the 
point  to  be  tested.  She  was  questioned  on  the  conver- 
sation between  myself  and  B  IV  five  minutes  earlier,  and 
about  B  IV's  movements  in  the  room.  She  knew  all 
this,  and  repeated  the  conversation  word  for  word. 

The  next  test  was  for  her  knowledge  of  B  I.  The 
following  was  selected:  Miss  Beauchamp  had  been  much 
distressed  about  some  letters  in  her  own  handwriting  which 
she  had  seen  at  a  previous  interview,  lying  on  my  table. 
She  had  assumed  that  they  were  written  by  Sally,  who, 
she  believed,  had  probably  said  a  lot  of  "mad  things,"  and 
she  wanted  the  letters  back.  Worrying  over  this  had 
caused  her  sleepless  nights.  B  IV  had  had  no  opportunity 
to  see  these  letters.  There  were  three  of  them, —  either  in 
envelopes  or  folded  so  that  they  could  not  be  read :  one 
from  B  I  herself,  one  from  B  IV,  and  one  from  Sally. 

The  hypnotized  B  IV  was  asked  to  repeat  the  substance 
of  these  letters.  She  repeated  accurately  the  contents  of 
that  from  B  I  as  well  as  that  from  B  IV,  but  she  had  not 
the  slightest  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  Sally's.  She 
further  remembered,  as  B  7,  seeing  Sally's  letter  on  the 
table,  and  described  its  appearance;  it  was  easily  distin- 
guished from  the  other  two  by  being  written  on  foolscap. 
It  must  be  kept  in  mind  —  though  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  give  the  details  here  of  the  demonstration  —  that  B  I 
awake  did  not  know  B  IV's  letter,  nor  did  B  IV  awake 
know  B  Fs  letter. 

Testing  further  the  hypnotic  self  of  B  IV  for  knowledge 
of  B  I,  it  was  found  that  she  knew  all  that  part  of  the 
hospital  episode  of  1893  for  which  the  memory  of  B  IV 
awake  was  blank,  but  which  B  I  knew;  that  is,  what 
occurred  after  she  left  the  ward.  She  described  with 
accuracy  everything  that  had  taken  place,  just  as  B  I  and 
Sally  had  described  it.     This  self  also  described  accurately 


the  visions  which  B  IV  had  had.  In  the  same  way  a  large 
number  of  events  in  the  lives  of  B  I  and  B  IV  were  gone 
over  and  it  was  found  that  she  remembered  accurately  the 
lives  of  both.  Likewise,  when  B  I  was  put  into  hypnosis 
the  resulting  hypnotic  self,  B  II,  knew  all  about  her  life  as 
B  IV  as  well  as  her  life  as  B  I. 

The  memories  of  B  II  were  the  same  as  those  of  B  VI. 

So,  then,  Sally  was  right  in  saying  that  so  far  as  memory 
went  B  VI  and  B  II  were  the  same  person;  or,  putting  it 
in  other  words,  that  B  I  and  B  IV  when  hypnotized  be- 
came the  same  person.  All  future  experiences  confirmed 
this  result.  The  hypnotic  self  always  had  a  complete 
knowledge  of  both  personalities,  —  of  their  actions  and 

It  remained  to  compare  the  characters  of  B  II  and  B  VI 
as  distinguished  from  their  memories.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
as  well  to  anticipate  here  by  saying  that  in  everything 
that  goes  to  make  up  character  —  habits  of  thought,  tem- 
perament, aspirations,  wishes,  tastes,  mode  of  reaction  to 
environment  —  they  were  one  and  the  same  personality. 
Consequently  from  this  time  on,  this  hypnotic  self  was 
always  designated  as  B  II,  and  there  was  no  longer  a 
B  VI. 

So  B  II  had  now  become  a  very  important  factor  in  the 
problem.  In  contrast  with  B  II 's  complete  knowledge  of 
Miss  Beauchamp  and  the  Idiot,  was  the  complete  ignorance 
which  she  exhibited  of  Sally.  Never,  on  any  occasion,  at 
any  time  since  she  has  been  under  observation,  has  B  II 
had  the  faintest  glimpse  into  her  life  as  Sally.  Sally's  life 
is  a  sealed  book  to  her. 

Pursuing  now  the  method  which  had  already  been  prac- 
tised with  gratifying  results  —  that  of  interrogating  each 
self  in  regard  to  its  own  psychical  life  and  its  relations  to 
the  other  selves  —  some  interesting  and  corroborative  in- 
formation was  obtained  from  B  II.     She  considered,  ^he 


said,  the  personalities  called  B  I  and  B  IV  the  same  as 
herself,  only  that  when  awake  as  B  IV  she  (B  II)  becomes 
"confused,"  and  then  says  all  sorts  of  "mad  things"  and 
fibs.  Why  she  fibs  she  does  not  know,  but  she  is  not  her- 
self then  and  cannot  help  it.  She  does  not  consider  that 
she  (B  II)  "  loses  time  "  when  confused :  when  she  "  loses 
time  "  it  is  different.  (By  this  she  refers  to  the  periods  of 
Sally's  existence.)  For  instance,  to-day  she  "lost  time" 
only  from  half-past  twelve  to  half-past  one,  and  from  half- 
past  two  to  six  o'clock,  for  she  has  no  knowledge  of  these 
hours.  (From  2.30  to  6  o'clock  Sally  was  with  me.)  She 
does  not  consider  it  "  losing  time  "  during  the  other  periods 
when  she  is  B  I  or  B  IV.  The  logical  attitude  of  B  II  in 
this  analysis  of  herself  is  self-evident.  As  she  knew 
everything  she  did  and  thought  as  B  I  and  as  B  IV,  there 
could  be  no  oblivion  for  her  during  those  periods,  and 
she  could  only  regard  herself  as  changing  in  character. 
Neither  did  she  speak  of  B  I  or  B  IV  as  different  persons, 
as  Sally  does.  She  did  not  call  either  "She,"  but  used 
the  words  "  myself "  and  "  I "  for  each  personality,  as 
well  as  for  herself  as  she  was  at  the  moment  asleep: 
"/  became  confused."  "/don't  know  why  J  fib."  Simi- 
larly, at  later  interviews,  when  to  test  the  personality  I 
used  to  ask  who  she  was,  she  would  reply,  "  I  am  myself. " 

"Where  is  B  I?" 


"Where  is  B  IV?" 

"I  am  B  IV." 

On  this  occasion,  in  reply  to  questions,  she  went  on  to 
say  that  she  (meaning  B  I)  had  changed  in  character  since 
the  hospital  time;  but  she  found  difficulty  in  describing 
how,  except  that  she  had  grown  morbid  and  nervous  and 
was  not  herself  (Miss  Beauchamp).  She  appealed  for  help, 
as  she  did  many  a  time  afterward,  begging  me  pathetically 
to  wake  her  up  and  make  her  herself,  —  make  her  so  that 



she  would  remember  everything  and  not  have  gaps  in  her 
memory;  not  prevaricate  and  not  tell  fibs  (B  IV).  Most 
piteously  she  pleaded  that  this  should  be  done ;  that  she  ^ 
should  be  made  herself.  She  seemed  to  mind  Sally's 
coming  most,  for  she  knew  nothing  of  what  was  done  at 
such  times.  From  the  after  evidences,  from  the  letters  to 
herself  and  others,  from  the  devilish  humiliations  she  was 
forced  to  undergo,  the  hundred  and  one  torments  she 
endured,  she  knew  that  she  had  been  acting  a  part,  and 
living  a  life  that  belied  her  character  and  was  mortifying 
to  her  pride.  Her  conduct  as  B  IV,  when,  as  it  seemed  to 
her,  she  was  not  herself,  almost  equally  troubled  her. 

The  personal  testimony  of  B  II,  then,  clearly  corrobo- 
rated that  derived  from  experimental  tests  and  other  obser- 
vations, and  showed  that  B  II  and  B  VI  were  the  same 
person.  This  interview  terminated  with  a  scene  which 
was  full  of  dramatic  effect: 

The  discovery  pointed  to  a  way  to  synthesize  all  the 
memories  of  Miss  Beaucharap  and  B  IV,  and  to  combine 
them  in  one  person,  which  after  all  was  one  of  the  main 
objects  sought.  If  B  II  could  be  waked  and  be  made 
to  retain  in  the  waking  state  everything  that  she  knew 
of  B  I  and  IV,  the  resulting  personality,  whether  B  I, 
B  IV,  or  the  real  self,  would  at  least  be  a  great  improve- 
ment over  anything  we  had  had.  If  B  IV  was  not  the^ 
real  self  there  was  no  object  in  keeping  her.  According 
to  the  new  hypothesis  B  II,  hitherto  like  Cinderella  neg- 
lected and  passed  by,  might  be  the  very  self  for  whom 
we  had  been  hunting.  Before  it  could  be  determined 
further  experiments  had  to  be  undertaken,  but  for  the 
present  it  seemed  worth  while  seeing  what  would  happen 
if  B  II  was  awakened,  her  eyes  opened,  and  made  by 
suggestion  to  retain  her  present  memories.  A  preliminary 
suggestion  was  given  as  follows: 

"When  you  awake,  you  will   know  everything.     You 


will  be  yourself  as  you  were  before  '  Providence.'     You 
will  remember  everything." 

While  saying  this  I  was  startled  to  hear  the  words, 
uttered  in  a  deep,  angry  tone,  "She  sha'n't  know  my  ^ 
thoughts."  Her  face  had  been  that  of  complete  placidit}'.  I 
For  a  second  the  features  became  ruffled  with  anger, 
and  then  subsided  again  into  their  former  calm.  After 
the  first  surprise,  I  recognized  Sally's  interference.  B  II 
of  course  did  not  hear  her  own  voice.  I  scolded  Sally 
severely,  —  talking  to  her  through  B  II,  —  knowing  that 
she  would  hear.  But  II,  being  all  unconscious  of  what 
had  happened,  did  not  understand  my  real  intention.  My 
manner  was  severe,  and  to  B  II  it  seemed  that  I  was  up- 
braiding her  who  had  just  been  pleading  for  life.  She 
asked  why  I  spoke  in  such  a  way.  What  had  she  done  ? 
She  seemed  to  feel  it  keenly.  "Don't  pay  any  attention  \ 
to  what  I  say, "  I  replied ;  "  I  am  speaking,  not  to  you,  but  I 
to  Sally,  who  hears."  "Sally?  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered;  I 
"she  writes  me  letters  — "  her  sentence  remained  unfin- 
ished, and  she  became  dumb.  She  could  not  speak  a 
word,  her  lips  were  sealed  and  her  tongue  tied.  Again 
I  scolded  Sally  for  interfering.  The  scolding  had  its 
effect.  B  II  was  proceeding  once  more  to  appeal  for  help, 
when  she  exclaimed:  "Oh,  Dr.  Prince,  I  can't  think  any 
more !  I  feel  just  as  if  something  had  taken  hold  of  my 
brain  and  stopped  my  thinking.  It  is  just  as  when  that 
thing  makes  me  see  and  do  things  I  don't  want  to  see  and 
do,  — as  if  a  part  of  my  brain  were  held." 

Again  I  scolded  Sally,  who  yielded  at  last,  and  B  II 
went  on  with  what  she  was  saying.  She  was  then  simply 
waked,  without  more  ado,  and  the  resulting  personality 
was  only  B  IV. 

It  remained  to  determine  what  relation  B  II  bore  to  the 
real  self,  which  self  might  be  X,  or  when  in  hypnosis  B  II 
herself.     This  question  was  postponed  for  future  study. 


It  was  not  long  before  B  IV  began  to  relapse  again  into 
her  earlier  condition  of  antagonism  and  independence.  Thff" 
open-minded  mood  of  November  1  and  3  soon  came  to  an 
end,  and,  as  her  character  gradually  unfolded  itself,  it  be- 
came evident  that,  however  strong  a  personality  she  might 
be,  the  idea  that  she  was  the  real  and  original  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was,  as  Sally  said,  "rubbish." 

The  following  from  B  IV,  written  immediately  after 
the  interview  of  November  1  (Chapter  XIV),  when  her 
trouble  was  explained  to  her,  speaks  for  itself: 

[From  B  IV,  Nov.  3,  1899.]  "  I  have  been  thinking  over 
what  you  said  this  evening,  and  while  I  appreciate  your  kind- 
ness, I  believe  it  better  not  to  trouble  you  with  my  woes,  so 
long  as  they  are  only  such  as  any  one  can  help  me  out  of.  I 
have  never  known  until  to-day  just  what  was  wrong  and,  not 
daring  to  ask,  have  fancied  that  perhaps  something  dreadful  — 
something  horrible  —  had  happened  which  people  were  keeping 
from  me  intentionally ;  but  if  it  is  only  something  growing  out 

of  that  summer  in ,  a  sort  of  dream  life,  why,  it  simplifies 

things  wonderfully,  for  Mr.  J will,  I  am  sure,  tell  me  every- 
thing that  has  happened  since  —  all  about  the  things  done  and 
those  left  undone  —  and  that  will  save  your  time  too,  which  I 
am  afraid  you  have  been  giving  me  freely.  And  I  shall  take 
up  nursing  again  now  —  the  old  life  which  I  love  so  much  — 
better  than  any  other  in  the  world,  —  as  you  probably  know. 
I  can  hardly  wait  to  see  about  it  —  I  am  so  excited. 

'*  You  have  been  awfully  good,  I  am  sure,  and  I  hope  you 
will  believe  me  both  grateful  and  appreciative.  I  know  how 
infinitely  trying  I  am  as  a  patient,  and  am  afraid  it  has  been 

hard  for  you  sometimes.      Mrs.  X did  not  know  all  my 

'  outs '  or  she  would  hardly  have  taxed  you  so.  I  shall  try  if 
possible  to  see  you  before  I  go  and  thank  you.  You  have  lifted 
such  a  weight  from  my  mind. 

"  P.  S.  I  am  going  to  enclose  a  note  in  this  which  I  have 
just  received,  and  beg  that  you  will  tell  me  who  the  writer 
is.  I  cannot  get  her  myself,  —  have  no  other  letters  from  her, 
and  yet  she  evidently  knows  me  very  well  indeed.     Unless  you 


can  enlighten  me,  I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  '  talk  ourselves  to 
death.' " 

As  we  went  on  to  study  B  IV  we  found  that  her  habits 
of  thought  and  her  conduct  were  as  different  from  those 
of  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp  as  chalk  is  from  cheese, 
however  plausible  she  at  times  made  herself  appear.  One 
unfortunate  trait  which  she  exhibited  was  that  of  falling 
into  uncontrollable  fits  of  anger  if  thwarted.  This  led 
frequently  to  the  destruction  of  documents  which,  as  I 
view  it,  were  an  irreparable  loss. 

Sally  had  agreed  to  write  the  autobiography  of  her  own 
(subconscious)  life,  and  for  this  purpose  used  to  come  to 
my  office  during  the  mornings.  It  was  impossible  to  take 
B  IV  into  my  confidence,  because  if  there  was  one  thing 
more  than  another  to  which  she  objected  it  was  revealing 
her  private  affairs,  no  matter  how  trivial.  She  simply 
refused  to  allow  it.  Then  again,  much  that  Sally  wrote 
was  unknown  to  B  IV,  and  therefore  the  latter  would  and 
did  deny  its  truth.  So  Sally  used  to  come  mornings  and 
write.  One  day  B  IV  was  found  with  a  number  of  crum- 
pled sheets  of  Sally's  manuscript  in  her  hand.  She  was 
moody,  angry,  uncompromising.  It  happened  that  while 
writing  Sally  had  had  the  ill  luck  to  change  accidentally 
to  B  IV,  who  thereupon  read  the  autobiography.  The  cat 
was  out  of  the  bag.  The  danger  of  the  destruction  of  the 
manuscript  was  imminent.  Diplomacy  proved  useless, 
and  the  papers  were  carried  away.  There  was  a  faint 
chance  that  Sally  would  somehow  prevent  the  threatened 
destruction,  but  B  IV  came  out  on  top  and  the  work  was 
destroyed.     The  following  letter  came  the  next  day : 

[From  B  IV.]  "  My  coming  here  mornings  —  however  amus- 
ing it  may  be  —  is  utterly  out  of  the  question.  You  have  made 
it  awfully  hard  for  me  in  losing  this  whole  week.  I  cannot 
afford  such  things,  believe  me. 


278     THE   DISSOCIATION   OF   A   PERSON  A.LITY      ^ 

"  P.  S.  I  don't  know  what  papers  you  wished  me  to  leave 
for  you.  Those  I  had  in  my  hand  were  only  some  scribbled 
sheets  of  my  own  —  nothing  concerning  you  in  the  least" 

The  "sheets"  were  Sally's  autobiography.  It  was  not 
far  advanced  and  the  loss  could  be  easily  retrieved,  but 
shortly  afterward  IV  succeeded  in  inflicting  a  greater  dam- 
age. Sally  had  begun  again,  and  the  autobiography,  after 
weeks  of  labor,  was  well  under  way,  —  perhaps  half  done. 
Entering  the  room  one  day,  I  found  B  IV  with  a  pile  of 
torn  pieces  of  paper  in  her  lap,  each  piece  about  the  size 
of  a  postage  stamp,  and  enough  pieces  to  fill  a  half -gallon 
bowl.  It  was  the  precious  manuscript.  Let  me  tell  why 
it  was  regarded  as  of  such  importance. 

Shortly  before  this,  on  October  26  (1899),  Sally  had 
entered  at  great  length  into  the  question  of  her  own  inde- 
pendent existence,  apart  from  that  of  B  IV  and  B  I.  She 
insisted  that  she  had  always  existed  as  a  real  and  separate 
person  from  early  childhood.  By  this  she  did  not  mean, 
of  course,  that  at  this  period  there  were  times  when  she 
was  the  sole  or  an  alternating  consciousness,  when  she 
walked  about  and  led  a  life  independent  of  the  primary 
consciousness,  as  she  does  at  present ;  but  that  within,  or 
alongside  of.  Miss  Beauchamp's  consciousness  there  has 
always  existed  a  conscious  nucleus  which  thought  and  felt 
independently  of  the  primary  consciousness,  and  which 
had  its  own  memories  of  which  Miss  Beauchamp  knew 

In  evidence  of  this  she  recalled  successive  events  in  her 
own  psychological  life  at  different  ages.  She  described 
her  own  thoughts  at  such  times  and  contrasted  them  with 
what  B  I  thought  at  the  same  moment.  She  claimed  to 
remember  what  she,  as  distinct  from  Miss  Beauchamp, 
thought  at  the  time  when  she  was  learning  to  walk.  Then 
B  I  was  frightened,  she  said,  and  wanted  to  go  back,  but 
subconscious  Sally  was  not  at  all  frightened  and  wanted  to 


go  ahead.  She  described  B  I  as  having  had  a  butterfly 
mind  as  contrasted  with  her  own.  She,  as  a  small  child, 
disliked  the  things  that  B  I  liked,  and  vice  versa.  She 
described  her  school  life,  her  own  feelings  when  B  I  did 
things,  and  the  different  sensations  of  the  two  selves  when, 
for  example,  B  I  was  punished  and  felt  badly,  while  she 
herself  was  entirely  indifferent  and  without  remorse. 

Then,  coming  to  a  later  period,  she  instanced  the  occa- 
sion (brought  out  in  a  crystal  vision),  when  she  saw  J., 
who  was  standing  behind  her,  crush  a  watch  which  he 
held  in  his  hand,  although  this  was  not  observed  by  Miss 

"  I  often  saw  things  that  she  never  saw.     I  saw  J 

crush  the  watch  when  she  didn't." 

"Did  you  hear  it?" 

"  I  saw  it,  and  heard  it,  too. " 

"  How  could  you  see  it?    You  said  he  was  behind  you." 

"  He  was  not  exactly  behind,  but  behind  my  shoulder. 
I  may  have  seen  it  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  just  as 
I  see  this  table  now  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  though  I 
am  looking  at  you. " 

"Why  didn't  she  see  it?" 

"I  don't  know."  Then,  meditatively,  "Why  can't  I 
see  crystal  visions  ?  I  can't.  When  she  sees  things  and 
doesn't  remember  them,  I  often  can.  She  forgets,  but  I 
don't.  I  suppose  this  is  because  her  mind  is  busy  with  one 
kind  of  thing,  and  my  mind  is  busy  with  another  kind." 

And  so  Sally  went  on,  recalling  many  instances  of 
double  consciousness  during  her  girlhood,  but  it  was  not 
until  she  got  her  eyes  open  that  she  had  an  independent 
existence.  Before  this,  as  she  maintained,  she  could  think 
separately,  but  could  not  act  as  an  independent  con- 
sciousness excepting  on  rare  occasions  when  she  could 
make  "her"  do  things.  With  the  exception  of  these 
occasional  instances  she  had  had  very  little   power  over 



"her"  body  until  she  "got  her  eyes  open."  (I  have  often 
seen  Sally,  co-consciously,  smile  through  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  tears,  so  to  speak,  producing  a  most  curious 
effect.)  Sally  harps  upon  the  fact  that  getting  her  own 
eyes  open  made  herself  "alive,"  and  gave  an  independ- 
ent existence  in  the  sense  of  having  sole  and  complete 
use  of  the  body.  In  explanation  of  these  statements  she 
agreed  to  write  an  autobiography  of  herself,  of  her  own 
consciousness  as  distinct  from  Miss  Beauchamp's,  begin- 
ning with  the  earliest  years. 

We  need  not  enter  here  into  the  credibility  of  Sally's 
statements,  for,  whether  credible  or  not,  from  this  general 
r^sumd,  it  will  be  seen  how  important  it  was  that  Sally 
should   herself  write   a   continuous   account  of  her  own 
mental   life,  contrasting   it  with  the  mental  life  of  Miss 
Beauchamp,  as  Sally  saw  both.      The  reliability  and  value 
of  such  an  account  could  be  determined  later.    The  first 
thing,    whatever  its   value,    was   to  get  it.    It  was  this 
precious  manuscript  which  B  IV  had  destroyed. 
r     This  vandalism,  the   fits  of  temper,  the   relapses  from 
1  the  periods  of  rationalism,  the  lack  of  self-control,  the  sug- 
\  gestibility,  all  indicated  abnormality  and  strengthened  the 
I  belief  that  B  IV  was  not,  after  all,  the  true  Miss  Beau- 
j  champ.     Indeed,  everything  warned  us  that  we  must  still 
be  on  the  hunt  for  the  real  self.     We  had  got  as  far  as 
identifying  B  II  and  B  VI.     Was  B  II  the  real  self,  after 
all?    If  not,  who  or  what  was  the  real  self?    If  B  II  were 
this  self  there  followed  consequences  of  importance,  for 
then  neither  B  I  nor  B  IV  was  real,  but  each  was  a  sort 
of  somnambulist.     If  B  II  were  the  original  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  then  it  probably  would  be  found  that  if  the  sug- 
gestion were  given  that,  on  waking,  she   should  remain 
herself  and  not  change  to  B  I  or  B  IV,  ^  and  then  were 

*  B  II  had  been  told  many  times  to  open  her  eyes  and  awake  —  this  was 
the  customary  way  of  awaking  her  —  bat  always  on  awaking  she  changed  to 


simply  told  to  open  her  eyes,  she  would  awake  with  all 
her  faculties,  complete  and  whole,  —  the  original  Miss 
Beauchamp  as  she  was  before  being  overwhelmed  by  the 
various  psychical  accidents  that  had  befallen  her.  This 
experiment  had  been  tried,  tentatively,  on  November  8, 
but  was  balked  by  Sally.  ^  It  did  not  seem  wise  to  rashly 
persist  until  it  was  positively  determined  that  B  II  was  the 
real  self ;  for  if  B  II  should  get  her  eyes  open  and  obtain 
an  independent  existence,  and  then  prove  after  all  not  to 
be  the  right  person,  there  would  be  a  pretty  "  howdy-do. "  j 
We  should  have  four  personalities  instead  of  three  to~' 
take  care  of,  and  we  had  our  hands  quite  full  enough 
already.  It  remained  then  to  study  B  II  as  well  as 

After  all  Sally's  theorizing  the  following  came  as  an 
anti-climax : 

[Letter  of  Nov.  27,  1899,  from  Sally.]  "  Don't  reckon  posi- 
tively on  my  coming  Tuesday  morniog,  and  don't  —  please  don't 
—  lay  too  much  stress  on  my  theories.     /  hate  psychology. 

"  P.  S.     I  don't  want  to  be  a  '  subliminal.'  ..." 

The  relations  of  B  I,  B  IV,  and  B  II  with  one  another, 
as  thus  far  made  out,  could  be  diagrammatically  expressed 
in  the  form  of  a  genealogical  tree  as  follows: 



The  solid  line  indicates  both  descent  and  synthesis. 
Where  was  the  original  B  ? 

B  I  or  B  IV.     It  was  therefore  necessary  by  suggestion  to  prevent  her  from 
changing  her  personality,  which  by  the  hypothesis  was  the    real   self  as  it 
existed  before  "  Providence." 
1  Page  275. 


Attention  has  already  been  called  to  one  more  point, 
which  needs  to  be  kept  in  mind,  that  when  B  I  and  B  IV 
became  B  II  a  very  wide  synthesis  took  place.  B  II  had 
the  memories  of  both  I  and  IV.  She  was  more,  then, 
than  a  mere  hypnotic  state  of  either.  She  was  a  synthesis 
of  both,  though  in  hypnosis. 



IT  will  be  remembered  that  it  was  determined  in  the 
course  of  the  study  of  B  I  that  that  personality  was 
subject  to  grave  instability  and  suggestibility.  It  remained 
to  make  a  similar  study  of  B  IV.  Besides  amnesia  (Chap- 
ter XV)  such  a  study  necessarily  included : 

(A)  Phenomena  of  dissociation  and  automatism. 

(B)  Health. 

(C)  Physiological,  moral,  and  mental  reactions,  particu- 
larly as  contrasted  with  those  of  B  I. 

(A)  Dissociation  and  automatisjii.  A  high  degree  of 
suggestibility  is  a  departure  from  the  normal,  and  belongs 
among  the  stigmata  of  hysteria.  The  crystal  vision  of  the 
hospital  adventure,  and  of  her  "coming,"  June  7,  as  well 
as  those  visions  which  she  induced  in  herself,  were  indica- 
tive of  suggestibility  of  no  mean  degree.  The  automatism 
was  further  evidenced  by  the  spontaneous  outburst  of  sub- 
conscious activity ;  for  instance,  Sally's  inhibiting  or  per- 
verting the  thought  of  the  personal  self.  Systematized 
anesthesia  and  positive  hallucinations  could  also  be  in- 
duced in  her  from  within,  that  is  to  say,  by  the  influence 
of  a  subconscious  idea,  —  the  subconscious  idea  being 
Sally's.  Such  phenomena  must  be  regarded  as  evidence  of 
a  mind  that  has  undergone  some  degree  of  disintegration. 
I  emphasize  the  word  "spontaneous,"  because,  by  artificial 
means  (hypnotic  suggestion)  a  mental  dissociation  in  some 
apparently  healthy  people  can  be  experimentally  induced 
which  is  capable  of  exhibiting  such  automatic  phenomena 


(post-hypnotic  suggestion,  etc.).  We  shall  later  see  that, 
to  the  degree  to  which  B  I  and  B  IV  were  restored  to  the 
normal,  Sally  lost  the  power  of  influencing  the  resulting 

Numerous  observations  might  be  given  of  the  sponta- 
neous action  of  the  dissociated  extra-consciousness  (Sally) 
on  the  personal  consciousness  (B  IV).  A  sufficient  num- 
ber of  examples  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix.  The 
resulting  phenomena  consisted  of  hallucinations,  paralysis, 
aboulia,  amnesia,  automatic  speech  and  writing,  etc.  Thus 
Sally  on  one  occasion  by  an  act  of  volition  altered  the 
details  of  a  "mind-fixing"  vision  through  which  B  IV 
endeavored  to  obtain  information  of  the  circumstances  of 
her  stay  as  B  I  in  a  private  hospital.  B  IV,  in  conse- 
quence, saw  in  the  room  Dr.  S.  whom  she  did  not  know, 
etc.     (Appendix  F.) 

On  another  occasion,  subconscious  Sally,  paralyzing 
B  IV's  tongue  and  lips,  made  her  dumb.  B  IV,  however, 
was  in  a  hypnotic  state  at  the  time,  and  therefore  the 
observation  must  be  taken  only  as  illustrating  the  ease 
with  which  a  disintegrated  mind  can  be  influenced, 
whether  from  within  or  from  without,  to  exhibit  abnormal 
phenomena.  When  the  primary  waking  consciousness 
exhibits  such  phenomena  it  is  presumptive  evidence  of 
abnormality.     (Appendix  G. ) 

On  another  occasion  Sally  produced  motor  automatism 
and  systematized  anesthesia  (negative  hallucinations)  in 
B  IV.  In  this  observation  B  IV  seized  a  pencil  out  of  my 
hand  and  threw  it  across  the  room,  and  then  was  stricken 
with  blindness  for  written  messages  intended  for  Sally. 
(Appendix  H.) 

On  another  occasion  B  IV  became  blind  for  the  text  of  a 
French  book  which  appeared  to  her  to  be  a  blank  notebook. 
Then,  when  directed  to  pick  out  a  French  book  from  the 
bookcase,  she  saw  no  bookcase  at  all,  but  insisted  that  the 


walls  were  sheathed  with  wooden  panels  like  the  rest  of 
the  room  (positive  hallucination).  The  dominant  idea  and 
belief  that  there  was  no  bookcase  in  front  of  her  induced 
the  positive  hallucination  of  wooden  panelling.  B  IV 
owed  this  hallucination  to  Sally's  jealousy  of  B  IV's  ac- 
complishment of  reading  French.     (Appendix  I.) 

On  another  occasion  I  saw  an  exhibition  of  the  contest 
between  two  wills  —  between  that  of  the  personal  and  that 
of  the  dissociated  consciousness.  Sally  tried  to  make 
B  IV  dumb;  B  IV,  bound  that  she  would  talk  and  not  be 
controlled,  succeeded  by  dint  of  much  stuttering,  in  mak- 
ing herself  understood.     (Appendix  J.)  ' 

Again  B  IV  was  afflicted  with  amnesia  for  the  name  of 
a  person  of  whom  Sally  is  jealous.  Sally  would  not  allow 
that  name  to  be  mentioned. 

Automatic  writing  and  speech  were  very  common. 
Numerous  records  of  the  former  will  be  found  in  Chapters 
XXII  and  XXIII,  and  instances  of  the  latter  are  inter- 
spersed throughout  this  account. 

Phenomena  of  the  kind  just  recorded  are  indicative  of 
more  than  suggestibility;  namely,  of  the  dissociation  of 
consciousness,  and  the  coactivity  of  the  dissociated  men- 
tal states  (Sally).  It  may  be  pointed  out  in  passing  that 
some  of  the  hallucinatory  phenomena  in  this  case  illustrate 
the  relation  between  such  phenomena  and  the  dominating 
ideas  (beliefs,  etc.)  which  directly  give  rise  to  them;  for 
instance,  the  illusion  on  the  part  of  B  IV  of  mistaking 
me  for  some  one  else,  on  her  advent,  June  7,  1899.  The 
illusion  was  the  psychical  expression  of  her  belief.  Believing 
the  time  was  1893,  the  scene  the  room  in  the  hospital,  and 
that  she  had  just  seen  Jones  at  the  window,  the  illusion 
was  suggested  by  this  belief.  So,  also,  when  B  I  failed 
to  see  the  rings  upon  the  ribbon  tied  to  her  neck,  this 
negative  hallucination  was  the  expression  of  the  belief  that 
she  had  lost  the  rings.     Again,  when  B  IV  believed  for 


the  moment  that  there  was  no  bookcase  in  front  of  her,  the 
hallucination  of  the  panelling  was  the  expression  of  this 

Similarly,  another  patient,  Mrs.  J n,  previously  re- 
ferred to,  who,  like  B  IV,  on  "  waking  up  "  went  back  nine 
years  in  her  life,  and  who  at  the  time  of  her  "  disappear- 
ance "  was  slight  of  figure  but  in  the  interim  had  grown 
fat,  with  a  girth  of  waist  of  thirty-four  inches,  insisted,  by 
an  illusion,  on  reading  the  tape  measure  twenty-one  inches, 
that  having  been  her  measurement  at  the  earlier  period. 
She  could  only  see  herself,  too,  as  slight  in  figure. 

Such  phenomena  answer  the  famous  question  of  Gries- 
singer,  "  Why  do  insane  people  believe  in  their  hallucina- 
tions?" The  answer  in  many  cases,  though  not  in  all, 
must  be.  They  have  their  hallucinations  because  they 
believe  the  content  of  them  to  be  true.  The  hallucination 
is  the  expression  of  their  belief. 

In  other  cases,  however,  the  hallucination,  as  well  as  the 
systematized  anesthesia,  is  not  dependent  on  the  belief  in 
the  primary  mind,  but  is  plainly  the  action  of  subconscious 
mental  states  upon  the  waking  consciousness.  When  B  I 
failed  to  see  the  rings,  the  primary  belief  originated  entirely 
in  her  personal  mind ;  but  when  B  IV  failed  to  be  conscious 
of  the  bookcase  and  of  the  writing  on  the  sheets  of  paper 
placed  before  her,  the  systematized  blindness  was  induced 
in  some  way,  —  unnecessary  for  us  to  inquire  into  in  this 
place,  —  by  the  action  of  a  subconscious,  dissociated  mind 
(Sally)  upon  the  personal  mind,  robbing  it  of  some  of  its 
visual  perceptions.  Psychologically,  a  negative  halluci- 
nation, the  failure  to  see  or  hear  something  present,  is 
very  different  from  a  positive  hallucination,  yet  both  may 
have  their  origin  in  the  action  of  extra-conscious  ideas 
upon  the  personal  consciousness.  Examples  of  positive 
hallucination  arising  in  that  way  will  occur  all  through 
this  biography.     It  would  seem  that  observations  of  this 


kind,  and  they  are  manifold  in  variety  and  number,  open 
up  to  the  alienist  a  field  for  experimental  inquiry  which 
should  produce  a  rich  harvest. 

These  observations,  as  well  as  numerous  others  of  auto- 
matic writing,  showed  first,  abnormal  suggestibility  on  the 
part  of  B  IV;  and  second,  that  Sally,  as  a  group  of  auton- 
omous dissociated  states,  coexisted  with  B  IV. 

(B)  Health.  The  matter  of  health  was  of  some  impor- 
tance in  deciding  upon  B  IV's  identity  even,  as  it  offered 
an  interesting  study  of  neurasthenia  and  the  influence  of 
the  mind  on  the  body.  If  she  were  free  from  neurasthenic 
symptoms  it  would  be  another  point  in  favor  of  her  nor- 
mality and  identification  with  the  true  self.  B  IV  did  not 
require,  indeed  refused,  medical  advice.  She  claimed  to 
be  strong  and  free  from  symptoms.  Was  this  true,  or  was 
it  only  a  bluff,  to  escape  supervision  ?  It  took  some  time 
to  determine  this  point,  and  it  was  not  settled  until  one 
day  when,  unable  to  stick  it  out,  she  broke  down  and 
asked  for  medical  help.  It  then  transpired,  and  was  after- 
ward frequently  confirmed,  that  she  was  more  or  less  of  a 
neurasthenic;  but  still  the  interesting  fact  was  brought 
out  by  degrees  that  there  was  a  vast  difference  between 
the  physical  health  of  B  I  and  that  of  B  IV.  B  IV  was 
much  the  stronger  of  the  two,  so  much  so  that  she  herself 
scarcely  recognized  any  unusual  limitation  to  her  powers, 
and,  if  she  had  not  been  the  victim  of  constant  harassing 
troubles,  she  would  have  had  fair  health.  The  depend- 
ence of  physical  infirmities^  like  pain,  fatigue,  and  insom- 
nia, upon  a  mental  change  of  personality  is  a  matter  of 
considerable  significance  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
pathology  of  the  neurasthenic  state.  This  was  particu- 
larly illustrated  by  Sally,  who  was  absolutely  free  from  ill 
health.  She  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  pain  and  fatigue. 
In  health  B  IV  stood  half-way  between  the  other  two. 

(C)  The  following  table  gives  an  analysis  of  the  physio- 



logical,  moral,  and  intellectual  characteristics  of  B  I  and 
B  IV.  It  is  written  in  the  first  person,  the  Real  Miss 
Beauchamp  describing  her  own  traits,  according  as  she  is 
in  state  B  I  or  B  IV,  but  it  has  been  carefully  collated  and 
discussed  between  us.  The  greater  number  of  these  con- 
trasted peculiarities  have  been  the  object  of  my  personal 
observation,  and  for  their  accuracy  I  can  vouch.  It  was 
often  easy  to  recognize  whether  it  was  B  I  or  B  IV  who 
entered  the  room  by  certain  plainly  manifested  traits,  —  the 
character  of  her  clothes,  the  way  her  hair  was  dressed,  her 
response  to  physical  contact,  as  in  shaking  hands,  and  her 
replies  to  questions  that  brought  out  her  moods.  Even 
the  single  conventional  greeting,  "How  do  you  do?" 
would  elicit  a  response  that  left  no  doubt.  A  study  of 
the  table  will  suggest  that  some  of  these  traits  must 
necessarily  have  carried  with  them  mannerisms  that  would 
be  characteristic  and  unmistakable.     This  was  the  case. 

TASTES  {pliysiological) 

Those  marked  with  an  *  were  characteristic  of  childhood,  before  disinte- 
gration into  B  I  and  B  IV  took  place  (1893).  The  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  has 
a  normal  memory  of  herself  as  B  I  and  B  IV  and  of  her  childhood. 

(I)  (IV) 

Appetite    usually   very  poor ;      Appetite   usually  very  good ; 
care  little  for  the  pleasures  of     like  good  food, 
the  table. 

Eat    things    which    are    con-     Eat  only  what  I  like, 
sidered  good  for  one. 

Take  black  coffee,  as   stimu-     Take  coffee  (with  sugar  and 
lant    (never    with    sugar    or      cream),  and   love   both   taste 
cream),  but  dislike   both   the      and  odor, 
taste   and  odor  of   it.      The 
latter  nauseates  me. 

Like  milk  and  take  a  great  Dislike  milk  and  do  not  drink 
deal  of  it  and  regularly.*  it  unless  obliged  to. 



Like  lemonade  with  sugar.* 

Like  soda  with  syrups,  etc. ; 
do  not  like  it  plain.* 

Rarely  take  wine,  though  I 
like  it.  Am  easily  affected  by 
it.  Never  drank  a  whole 
glassful  at  a  time.* 

Like  lemonade  without  sugar ; 
cannot  drink  it  if  sweetened. 

Like  plain  soda ;  cannot  drink 
it  with  syrups. 

Always  take  wine.  Have  a 
strong  head,  and  can  drink 
several  glasses  without  being 
in  the  least  affected.  Have 
drunk  what  would  be  the 
equivalent  of  at  least  eight  or 
ten  glasses  without  being  con- 
scious of  any  effect  whatever. 

Very  fond  of  vegetables  and      Dislike     all     vegetables    and 
would  gladly  be  a  vegetarian,      never  eat  them.* 

Never  use  vinegar.* 

Never  use  oil.* 

Like  soups,  broths,  etc.* 

Cannot  eat  05'sters. 

Use  a  great  deal  of  vinegar. 
Use  a  great  deal  of  oil. 
Never  eat  soups  or  broths. 

Very  fond  of  oysters.* 

Like  graham  bread,  rye  bread.      Never  eat  anything  but  white 
etc.  bread.* 

Fond  of  ice  cream.* 

Cannot  take  sherbet. 

Dislike  the  smell  of  cigarettes ; 
never  smoked  one  in  my  life ; 
have  moral  objections  to  smok- 
ing and  feel  distressed  on 
learning  I  have  smoked  as  B 
IV ;  have  been  nauseated  from 
effect  of  B  IV's  smoking.* 

Never  eat  ice  cream. 

Very  fond  of  sherbet.* 

Extravagantly  fond  of  smok- 
ing, and  can  smoke  almost 
innumerable  cigarettes  with- 
out feeling  any  ill  effects. 




Have  a  strong  aversion  to 
taking  medicine  of  any  kind 
unless  absolutely  obliged  to ; 
am  almost  invariably  nau- 
seated by  the  mere  thought  of 
taking  it.* 

Am  always  experimenting 
with  drugs,  patent  medicines, 

Rather   averse  to  out-of-door 

exercise,     though  chiefly,     I 

think,  because  of  not  feeling 
up  to  it. 

Extravagantly  fond  of  all  out- 
of-door  things,  and  apt  to  in- 
dulge in  them  regardless  of 

TASTES  (moral) 

Always  wear  hair  low. 

Cannot  bear  tight  clothing, 
because  of  pain  and  discom- 

Always  wear  hair  high;  am 
made  extremely  nervous  by 
the  way  B  I  wears  it. 

Like  clothes  very  tight  —  so 
tight  as  to  cause  B  I  acute 

Like  black,   white,    and   soft     Never  wear  black  —  hate  it; 

shades  of  color  in  dress  ;  dis- 
like practically  everything  af- 
fected by  B  IV. 

am  fond  of  white,  and,  gen- 
erally, of  more  vivid  colors 
than  B  I ;  generally  change 
clothes  I  find  myself  wearing 

Like    rings    very  much,    and 
wear  them. 

Dislike  rings ;  find  them  un- 
comfortable and  irritating ; 
never  wear  them. 

Like  button  boots  of  soft  flex- 
ible material ;  high  laced  boots 
cause  acute  discomfort ;  by 
choice  wear  low  shoes. 

Like  high-laced  boots  of  firm 
material ;  dislike  button  boots 
and  cannot  wear  them  without 
being  made  tired  and  nervous  ; 
dislike  low  shoes  and  never 
wear  them. 



Dislike  sunlight  and  the  glare 
of  the  streets;  keep  shades 
low  in  order  to  have  dim  light 
in  room  ;  am  very  apt  to  have 
headache  if  light  is  strong. 

Love  sunlight  and  the  glare 
of  the  streets;  fasten  shades 
at  the  very  top  of  the  window 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it 
difficult  for  B  I  to  change 

Very  fond  of  church  and  of 
church  services.* 

Like    devotional    books 
read  a  great  many.* 


Never  read  newspapers,  and 
care  very  little  about  what  is 
going  on  in  the  world. 

Am  like  other  people  in  this 

Never,  voluntarily,  enter 
church  or  attend  any  service. 

Never  read  devotional  books, 
and  am  annoyed  by  having 
them  lying  about. 

Devour  newspapers  with  great 
enjoyment,  and  take  an  eager 
interest  in  general  affairs.* 

Dislike  intensely  being  touched 
by  any  one,  even  shaking  hands 
with  any  one. 




Considerate  of  others. 

Even  temperament,  though 
tinged  with  depression ;  ami- 
able; never  angry. 

Never  rude  or  intolerant. 

Most  impatient. 

Consider  only  myself  and  my 
personal  convenience. 

Quick-tempered,  and  subject 
to  violent  rages  which  noth- 
ing will  restrain ;  circum- 
stances which  depress  B  I 
arouse  anger  in  B  IV. 

Rude  if  opposed,  and  apt  to 
be  intolerant  at  all  times. 


Fight  Sally  day  and  night. 

Never  quarrel  with  Sally  or 
attempt  retaliation. 

Never    enter    into  a   contest 
vrhen  opposed. 

Always  ready  for  a  contest  if 

Nothing  suggests  retaliation ; 
never  take  offence. 

Very  dependent. 

Quick  to  take  offence  and  to 
retaliate  for  what  would  be 
immaterial  to  B  I.  "I  wear 
a  chip  on  my  shoulder." 

Extremely  self-reliant. 

Strong  will  only  in  pursuing  Indomitable  will  and  obstinacy, 
an  ideal ;  otherwise,  easily  in-  even  if  only  to  have  own  way ; 
fluenced  and  yielding.  rarely  influenced  by  others. 

Ready  to  take  advice,  and  Unwilling  to  take  advice  or 
need  the  moral  help  of  control,     submit  to  any  control. 

Practically  free  from  vanity  Vain,  and  extremely  conceited, 
and  conceit.  "  Imagine  I  am  quite  capable 

of  running  the  world." 

Rarely  make  suggestions,  and  Am  constantly  making  sug- 
never  volunteer  advice.  gestions,  volunteering  advice, 


As  a  rule,  yield  to  emotions.  Never  yield  to  emotions. 

Spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  Never  spend  a  moment  dream- 
dreaming,  and  lead  a  medita-  ing ;  lead  an  exceptionally  ac  • 
tive,  dreamy  life.  tive  life. 

Read  a  great  deal,  and   find  Read  very  little,  and  do  not 

reading  one  of    my  greatest  care   about  it;    prefer  books 

pleasures;  have  catholic  tastes;  dealing  with  facts ;  care  noth- 



also  love  the   beauty  of  the     ing  for  the  binding  or  form  of 
book  itself  as  well.     Fond  of     the   book.     Never  read  B  I's 
books  of  devotion,  poetry,  and      books, 
novels.     Never   read  B  IV's 

Dislike  writing,  and  do  very     Write  a  great  deal  and  like  it. 

Hate  sewing. 

Like  sewing. 

Morbidly  averse  to  meeting  Delighted  to  meet  new  people, 
people,  and  to  forming  new  but  quite  as  averse  to  forming 
friendships.  friendships  as  B  I. 

Devoted  to  old  people. 

Detest  old  people. 

Love  to  be  with  people  who     Hate  illness,  and  have  morbid 
are  ill  or  suffering.  horror  of  everything  connected 

with  it. 

Very  fond  of  children.* 

I  think  children  a  great  nuis- 

Enjoy  doing  charitable  or  al- 
truistic work,  visiting  and 
reading  to  invalids  or  old 
people,  visiting  the  poor,  etc. 

Hate  such  things. 

Religious  in  thought,  and  lay 
much  emphasis  on  outward 
observance.  Fond  of  church 
and  church  services,  of  keep- 
ing fasts  and  doing  penance. 

Converse  of  this. 

Given  to  idealizing  friends,  and 
even  mere  acquaintances. 

Entirely  without  this. 


Have  different  set  of  friends 
from  B  IV,  with  consequent 
social  difficulties. 

Am  emotionally  affected  by 
religious  services  and  indulge 
these  emotions. 

No  fear  of  the  dark. 

Have  different  set  of  friends 
from  B  I ;  cannot,  as  a  rule, 
endure  the  people  she  likes. 

Also  emotionally  affected,  but, 
knowing  that  I  have  been 
profoundly  affected  by  these 
things  in  the  past,  I  avoid  them 
and  all  mention  of  them  when- 
ever possible.  When  not  pos- 
sible, I  endeavor  to  abstract 
myself  as  much  as  I  can  in 
order  not  to  be  influenced  and 
not  to  remember. 
Great  fear  of  the  dark. 


Knowledge  that  was  obtained 
by  B  I  through  study,  such  as 
French,  Latin,  shorthand,  etc., 

was  often  not   possessed  by 
B  I  unless  lost  by  B  IV. 

was  often  found  not  to  be 
possessed  by  B  IV  unless 
lost  by  B  I. 

What  was  learned  by  B  IV 

[That  is  to  say,  these  acquisitions  alternated  between  B  I 
and  B  IV:  when  B  I  could  read  French,  B  IV  could  not,  and 
vice  versa,  —  that  is,  the  memory  of  these  languages  was  al- 
ternately synthesized  with  the  two  personalities,  but  it  is  not 
possible  to  say  it  was  never  synthesized  by  both,  for  obvious 

Emotionalism.  There  is  one  trait  common  to  both  I 
and  IV  which  deserves  more  particular  mention  on  account 
of  the  part  it  played  in  the  psychological  drama  of  this 
case.     In  both  personalities  the  emotions  ordinarily  asso- 


ciated  with  specific  experiences  were  felt  with  extraor- 
dinary intensity  and  rushed  upon  them  with  flash-like 
rapidity.  Music,  religion,  scenery,  a  poem,  a  story,  or 
the  personality  of  an  individual  aroused  intense  feelings, 
pleasant  or  unpleasant,  which  swayed  B  I  irresistibly  and 
threatened  to  dominate  IV.  Even  in  recalling  to  memory 
a  scene  of  the  past  each  lived  over  again  all  the  feelings 
experienced  at  the  time.  (The  power  of  visualization  is 
80  marked  in  both  that  a  mere  verbal  description  of  an 
event  awakens  a  visualized  picture  of  the  whole.)  Of  the 
two,  probably  the  feelings  of  IV  were  the  more  intense. 
But  there  was  a  great  difference  in  the  behavior  of  I  and 
IV  to  these  emotions.  B  I's  life  was  given  up  to  their 
influence.  In  the  play  of  her  mobile  features  every  feel- 
ing could  easily  be  read.  But  IV  fought  against  them, 
trampled  upon  them,  resisted  them  with  all  her  might 
and  main.  She  was  determined  that  she  would  not  be 
under  the  influence  of  her  emotions,  whether  of  religion  or 
music,  or  of  those  coming  from  the  pereonal  influence  of 
another.  She  indeed  concealed  this  side  of  her  character 
successfully  for  a  long  time,  pretending  that  she  was  in- 
different to  all  that  really  affected  her  intensely.  Sally 
was  completely  hoodwinked  by  her.  IV  even  wrote  per- 
verted analyses  of  her  mental  reactions  to  various  experi- 
ences (music,  books,  religion,  etc.),  in  order  that  the  truth 
might  not  be  guessed.  She  was  bound  that  she  would  not 
be  the  slave  of  her  emotions,  which  meant  idealism,  but 
would  be  free. 

Insistent  ideas.  "  When  we  examine  the  demeanor  and 
thought  of  certain  patients,  particularly  hystericals, "  says 
Janet,  "  we  soon  discover  that  their  thoughts  are  not  like 
those  of  other  people.  While  with  others  ordinary  ideas, 
sensations  called  forth  by  the  sight  of  surrounding  objects 
or  accidental  convereations,  retain  some  sort  of  normal 
calm  —  their   balance,  so   to  say,  along   with  other  psy- 


chological  phenomena  —  with  hystericals  it  is  otherwise. 
One  particular  notion  will  at  once  assume  an  undue  impor- 
tance —  an  importance  altogether  out  of  proportion  to  their 
other  ideas  —  and  play  a  chief  part  in  their  lives.  This 
fact  has  often  been  observed  and  pointed  out  by  students. "^ 

We  may  say  that  there  is  a  limitation  of  the  field  of 
consciousness  in  the  sense  that  only  one  point  of  view  at 
a  time  can  be  made  use  of  by  the  subject.  There  is  a 
restriction  at  any  given  moment  of  the  total  number  of 
associated  ideas.  The  subject  is  unable  constantly  to 
readjust  his  ideas  according  to  the  requirements  of  the 
moment;  to  compare  and  shift  his  point  of  view  and  thus 
get  a  balanced  judgment.  The  content  of  consciousness 
becomes  contracted  to  a  single  idea  which  dominates  the 
mind.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  hysteric  tends  to  be 
under  the  domination  of  the  particular  idea  which  is 
present  at  any  given  moment,  while  one  or  more  tend  to 
be  pereistent  and  may  even  become  fixed  ideas.  This  was 
the  case  with  both  B  I  and  B  IV.  Whatever  idea  came 
into  their  minds  respectively  tended  to  dominate  the  judg- 
ment and  control  the  conduct  of  each,  regardless  of  the 
wisdom  or  unwisdom  of  the  resulting  act. 

This  was  particularly  the  case  when  an  idea  was  accom- 
panied by  a  strong  emotion.  Then  it  was  simply  impos- 
sible for  either  personality  to  see  any  other  point  of  view. 
Argument  and  expostulation  were  in  vain,  and  what  practi- 
cally was  equally  inconvenient,  nearly  every  act  or  word  of 
others  was  interpreted  from  this  point  of  view.  The  only 
remedy  was  hypnosis  and  suggestion,  and  then  in  a  moment 
all  would  be  changed. 

This  incapacity  correctly  to  interpret  the  environment  is 
a  marked  peculiarity  of  certain  types  of  the  hysteric  mind, 
but  one  which  is  generally  overlooked.  The  hysteric  given 
over  to  insistent  ideas  is  unable  correctly  to  interpret  his 

1  The  Mental  State  of  Hystericals. 


environment.  His  perceptions  are  perverted,  owing  to  a 
faulty  translation  of  everything  through  his  own  ideas. 
Visual  and  auditory  images  are  aroused  in  his  mind  with 
abnormal  vividness,  and  in  consequence  the  ideas  associated 
with  any  given  perception,  especially  when  of  an  emotional 
character,  are  revived  with  an  undue  intensity  and  give  a 
distorted  meaning  to  the  perceptions.  The  associated 
ideas  fill  his  conscious  field  instead  of  the  perception. 
This  largely  accounts  for  the  supposed  lying  to  which  in 
text-books  hysterics  are  erroneously  regarded  as  prone. 
They  do  not  intend  to  lie,  but  simply  narrate  their  own 
distorted  perceptions. 

This  domination  of  ideas  in  B  I  and  B  IV  tended  to 
greatly  add  to  the  difficulties  of  the  management  of  the 
case.  It  interfered  with  the  daily  routine  of  life  and  led 
to  the  assumption  of  responsibilities  and  tasks  far  beyond 
the  strength  and  capacity  of  either  personality  to  fulfil. 

There  was  one  other  very  curious  peculiarity  in  the  rela- 
tions of  B  I  and  B  IV,  which  has  already  been  described 
but  which  should  be  mentioned  in  this  connection.  It  had, 
moreover,  certain  practical  results,  both  in  the  undoing 
of  the  personalities  and  in  their  restoration  to  normality. 
It  was  this :  though  B  IV  and  B  I  had,  respectively,  am- 
nesia for  the  ideas  and  sensory  experiences  of  each  other, 
the  emotions  of  the  one  awakened  by  such  ideas  and  experi- 
ences were  often  retained  by  the  other,  and  were,  therefore, 
more  or  less  common  to  both.  If,  for  instance,  B  I  for 
some  cause  became  anxious  or  fearful  about  some  partic- 
ular matter,  when  she  changed  to  B  IV  the  latter  felt  anx- 
ious or  fearful  without  knowing  why.  The  resulting 
phenomenon  was  much  like  one  of  those  obsessions  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken  (Chapter  VIII),  and  which 
play  such  a  prominent  role  in  clinical  medicine.  Although 
B  I  and  B  IV  as  personalities  were  not  subconscious  —  in 
the  sense  in  which  this  term  is  used  in  this  study  —  to 


each  other,  yet  certain  isolated,  disconnected,  "scrappy" 
memories  of  each  sometimes  persisted  and  formed  a  co- 
consciousness  to  the  other.  At  least  there  is  experimental 
evidence  tending  to  show  this.  The  emotions  of  the  wak- 
ing personality,  then,  came  from  the  subconscious  memo- 
ries, just  as  did  B  I's  indefinable  fears  before  the  advent 
of  B  IV  (p.  133).  Finally,  the  effect  of  the  same  emo- 
tion produced  interestingly  different  results  in  the  two 
personalities.  In  B  IV  worry  or  anxiety  produced  insom- 
nia or  fatigue,  which  in  turn  excited  bad  temper.  Then 
all  good  resolutions  were  thrown  to  the  winds;  all  sorts 
of  obsessing  ideas  arose;  the  world  was  against  her,  and 
she  was  against  the  world  and  defied  it  by  rebellion.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  B  I  the  same  emotion  produced  insom- 
nia and  fatigue  also,  but  instead  of  bad  temper  there  fol- 
lowed depression,  weariness,  a  feeling  of  helplessness, 
penitence,  and  recourse  to  prayer.  The  following  in- 
stance will  illustrate: 

B  IV  had  temporarily  reformed.  Suddenly,  and  appar- 
ently without  motive,  she  became  angry,  rebellious,  bel- 
ligerent. After  passing  most  of  the  night,  as  a  relief  for 
insomnia,  in  writing  some  records  for  me,  she  pitched  the 
whole  thing  into  the  fire  in  the  morning,  in  a  fit  of  anger. 
When  reprimanded,  she  complained  of  a  feeling  of  anxiety 
and  dread,  unconnected  with  any  known  idea,  and  of  the 
origin  of  which  she  was  ignorant.  It  was  a  distinct  feel- 
ing of  being  anxious  about  something,  but  she  did  not 
know  what  that  something  was.  It  was  discovered 
through  hypnosis  (by  methods  to  be  described  in  the  next 
chapter)  that  B  I  was  anxious  about  a  particular  matter. 
Her  apprehension  was  so  intense  that  it  induced  insomnia, 
but,  saintlike,  she  sought  relief  in  prayer  and  church. 
B  IV  did  not  definitely  know  what  the  trouble  was,  but 
she,  too,  felt  the  anxiety,  which  likewise  in  her  induced 
insomnia;  her  relief  was  not  prayer  and  church,  however, 


but  anger  and  the  destruction  of  the  records.  The  evi- 
dence obtained  showed  that  it  was  the  same  emotion  that 
was  experienced  by  both  B  I  and  B  IV. 

These  extraordinary  differences  in  the  characteristics  of 
B  I  and  B  IV  furnish  data  for  determining  the  psychology 
of  character  of  which  we  shall  make  a  further  study  in 
Part  III.  That  a  person's  character  may  change  in  a 
moment,  becoming  in  a  second  of  time  the  antithesis  of 
what  it  was,  opens  up  the  questions.  What  is  character? 
and,  What  makes  character?  The  phenomena  of  disinte- 
grated personality  suggest  that  our  characters  are  wholly 
a  matter  of  brain  associations,  and  that  they  may  be  altered 
for  good  or  for  ill,  by  anything  that  will  bring  about  a 
rearrangement  of  these  associations. 

At  first  in  the  course  of  this  study  it  seemed  as  if  the 
differences  in  character  between  B  I  and  B  IV  might  be 
determined  by  differences  in  memory.  It  has  been  held  ^ 
that  disorders  of  character  are  dependent  upon  disorders  of 
memory;  but  when  one  studies  the  differences  in  the 
fhysiological  reactions  manifested  by  B  I  and  B  IV  it 
seems  inconceivable  that  they  can  be  brought  about  by 
differences  in  memory,  as  that  term  is  ordinarily  under- 
stood. Surely  the  susceptibility  to  alcohol  of  B  I,  who 
felt  uncomfortable  from  one  glass  of  wine,  and  the  immu- 
nity of  B  IV,  who  has  taken  without  conscious  effect 
three  or  four  glasses  of  champagne,  followed  by  as  many 
cocktails  and  several  glasses  of  liqueur,  cannot  be  ex- 
plained in  any  way  by  memory.  Nor  can  the  differences 
in  tastes,  such  as  the  fondness  for  sugar,  oil,  vinegar, 
etc.,  on  the  part  of  one  personality,  and  the  dislike  on 
the  part  of  the  other  for  the  same  things,  be  made  intelli- 
gible on  the  ground  of  memory,  in  the  absence  of  any 
known  experiences,  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  in  connection 
with   them.      Miss   Beauchamp   can   recall   nothing   that 

1  Pierre  Janet,  The  Mental  State  of  Hjstericals  (1901),  p.  78. 


would  suggest  a  reason  for  these  differences.  The  vary- 
ing hyperesthesia  in  the  two  personalities,  such  as  the 
intense  dislike  of  being  touched  by  another  person,  the 
dislike  of  finger  rings  and  buttoned  boots,  ma,nifested  by 
B  IV,  and  B  I's  dislike  of  tight  clothing,  high-laced 
boots,  etc.,  cannot  be  explained  on  the  basis  of  memory. 
The  same  is  true  of  B  I's  depression  and  of  its  absence 
in  B  IV. 

Even  when  we  include  in  memory  all  the  half-consciously 
associated  experiences,  ideas,  and  emotions  grouped  about 
any  particular  thing  in  the  object  world,  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  through  such  associations  the  different  reac- 
tions to  sunlight  and  color  which  we  find  in  our  table. 
These  led  to  differences  in  habits  and  in  dress ;  peculiar- 
ities which  plainly  enter  into  at  least  the  "caprices"  and 
"whims"  of  the  subject.  And  what  shall  be  said  to  ex- 
plain through  memories  the  differences  in  the  religious 
feelings?  Each  personality  remembered  their  mutual 
early  life,  when  the  religious  education  took  place.  And 
when  we  pass  to  moral  and  intellectual  attitudes,  which 
essentially  belong  to  character,  the  memories  must  be 
exquisitely  subtle  that  can  oppose  vanity  to  unconscious- 
ness of  self,  quick  temper  to  serenity,  and  indomitable  will 
and  mule-like  obstinacy  to  yielding  docility. 

It  seems  to  me  that  such  great  differences  can  be  ex- 
plained only  through  differences  in  the  reactions  of  the 
mind  (or  brain)  to  the  environment;  such  differences  in 
the  reactions  being  due  to  dissociations  of  mental  processes 
and  reassociations  of  them  in  new  systems  of  mental  states. 
The  cards,  so  to  speak,  have  been  reshuffled  and. a  new 
hand  dealt. 

That  B  IV  is  a  very  different  character  from  the  Miss 
Beauchamp  who  first  presented  herself  in  1898  must  be 
plainly  manifest  to  the  most  casual  reader.  But  did  the 
change  portend  a  return  to  a  previous  state  ?    The  extreme 


mobility  of  the  psychical  states,  the  suggestibility,  the 
readiness  with  which  dissociation  took  place,  and  the  ease 
with  which  she  was  influenced  by  the  subconscious  state 
(Sally),  implied  an  unstable  condition  and  tendency  to 
disintegration,  and  were  against  normality.  But  B  I 
showed  the  same  peculiarities,  and  between  the  two  in 
these  respects  there  was  nothing  to  choose.  If  mobility, 
dissociation,  and  suggestibility  were  taken  as  criteria, 
B  IV  was  quite  as  normal  as  our  Miss  Beauchamp,  and 
quite  as  likely  to  be  the  real  original  self. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  of  IV 's  other  characteristics, 
especially  the  absence  of  aboulia,  the  lowered  impression- 
ability and  emotionalism,  the  lessened  neurasthenia,  the 
self-reliance,  etc.,  etc.,  pointed  to  a  greater  degree  of 
normality,  with  the  possibility  that  she  was  the  real  self. 

The  more  the  two  personalities  were  studied,  the  more 
abnormal  both  appeared,  and  the  less  there  seemed  to 
choose  between  them. 


IS  B  n  THE  REAL  MISS   BEAUCHAMP?  —  B  la 

DECEMBER,  1899,  was  passed  in  studying  B  II.  The 
best  idea  of  B  II  can  be  gained,  I  think,  if  her  mode 
of  speech  and  manner  when  she  makes  her  appearance  are 
described,  as  well  as  the  way  in  which  it  is  customary  to 
bring  her.  B  II  never  comes  spontaneously,  like  B  I  and 
B  IV.  When  the  other  characters  change  parts  they  do 
it  with  one  another,  never  with  B  II.  It  is  necessary  to 
bring  B  II  by  word  of  command.  B  I  or  B  IV,  as  the 
case  may  be,  is  hypnotized  in  any  one  of  the  conventional 
ways,  —  a  word  of  command  for  the  eyes  to  close  and  for  the 
personahty  to  sleep  being  ordinarily  sufficient.  Then  the 
command,  "  Change ;  B  II,"  is  given,  and  if  successful 
B  II  is  there. 

As  a  test  of  identity  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  putting 
certain  questions  which  are  answered  differently  by  each. 
Not  only  the  answers  but  the  manner  of  each  is  so  different 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  mistake  the  character.  SaUy, 
as  a  joke,  used  sometimes  to  imitate  B  II,  but  the  imita- 
tion was  so  poor  it  was  easily  detected.  B  IV  at  a  later 
period,  being  in  rebellion  against  the  new  order  of  things, 
would  try  to  prevent  my  getting  B  II,  and  at  times  while 
apparently  half  hypnotized  ^  would  claim  that  she  was  B  II, 
but  a  single  test  question  of  memory  would  settle  the 
matter,  aside  from  her  mannerisms,  which  were  as  different 
from  those  of  B  II   as,  we  will  say,  Sarah   Bernliai'dt's 

1  At  such  times,  as  will  later  appear,  B  IV  was  in  another  hypnotic 
condition,  B  IV  a  and,  correspondingly,  B  I  in  what  was  known  as  B  I  a. 

IS  B  II  THE   REAL  MISS   BEAUCHAMP  ?      303 

from  Duse's.  But  aside  from  these  times  of  active  rebel- 
lion and  war,  when  the  question,  "Who  is  this?"  was 
asked,  if  the  change  of  personality  was  not  complete,  the 
answer  would  be,  "  B  I "  or  "  B  IV,"  as  the  case  might  be, 
the  individual  being  in  what  seemed  a  half-hypnotic  con- 
dition. When  the  change  was  complete,  the  answer  would 
be,  "  I  am  myself,"  or  "  I  am  Miss  Beauchamp."  There 
was  a  quiet  dignity  in  her  manner  that  was  impressive. 
Then  would  follow  the  colloquy  already  mentioned: 

«  Where  is  B  I  ?  " 

"  I  am  B  I,  Dr.  Prince." 

"  Where  is  B  IV?" 

"  I  am  B  IV." 

Every  attempt  to  confuse  her  would  fail,  and  she  would 
never  allow  one  to  make  any  distinction  between  herself 
and  these  personalities,  or  even  between  B  I  and  B  IV. 
She  recognized  the  fact  that  she  behaved  differently  in  the 
respective  roles  of  B  I  and  B  IV,  but  I  could  never  speak 
of  B  I  or  B  IV  as  such  without  being  reminded  that  it  was 
herself ;  consequently  I  was  obliged,  as  a  rule,  to  use  some 
such  phrase  as,  "  You  as  B  I,"  or  "  When  you  were  B  IV." 
She  insisted,  in  sorrow,  upon  assuming  full  responsibility  for 
B  IV's  conduct,  saying  that  it  was  herself  after  all,  and  she 
could  not  shirk  the  responsibility.  She  recognized  the  fact 
that  as  B  IV  she  did  not  know  what  she  did  as  B  I,  and 
viee  versa  ;  but  she,  B  II,  knew  everything.^  She  could 
give  no  explanation  of  the  metamorphosis  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  personalities,  or  why  at  one  time  she  could  not 
remember  what  had  been  done  at  another  time. 

Then,  as  a  character,  she  was  in  many  respects  different 
from  B  I,  and  totally  different  from  B  IV.  With  a  full 
knowledge  of  the  past  six  years,  the  spectacle  of  hereelf  as 
B  IV  rebelling  against  her  friends,  fibbing,  and  prevaricat- 
ing, was  a  source  of  great  pain  to  her ;  and  when  later 
1  Exceptiug,  of  course,  about  Sally. 


B  IV  plotted  to  get  rid  of  all  control,  terrorizing  B  I  into 
a  belief  that  every  one  was  tired  of  her,  B  II  would  beg  not 
to  be  given  up,  not  to  be  allowed  to  leave  us,  not  to  be  de- 
serted. She  would  ask,  "  Why  do  I  behave  so  ?  "  and  then 
plead  not  to  be  permitted  to  do  it.  She  would  humbly 
apologize  for  her  conduct,  which  she  took  deeply  to  heart. 

In  character  B  II  seemed  to  answer  all  the  requirements 
of  the  Miss  Beauchamp  we  were  in  search  of.  She  was 
without  the  morbid  idealism  and  impressionability  of  B  I, 
and  without  those  traits  of  B  IV  which  all  recognized  to 
be  departures  from  the  original  self.  But  of  course,  as  she 
had  never  been  allowed  to  live  a  life  of  her  own,  indepen- 
dent of  the  other  selves,  had  never  indeed  opened  her  eyes, 
what  kind  of  a  person  she  would  be,  how  she  would  behave, 
how  she  would  react  to  her  environment,  if  her  eyes  were 
opened,  could  not  be  foretold. 

It  was  evident  that  B  II  had  developed  in  many  respects 
since  those  early  days,  nearly  two  years  before,  when  she 
was  described  as  the  soul  of  Miss  Beauchamp.  She  still 
seemed  to  be  that,  but  she  was  more.  There  was  an  ab- 
sence of  that  melancholy  sadness  and  weariness  that  had 
formerly  characterized  her.  She  was  less  nervous,  showed 
less  humility,  less  morbid  conscientiousness ;  she  was  more 
natural,  more  light-hearted,  and  possessed  greater  sponta- 
neity and  intellectual  grasp.  The  significance  of  this  change, 
which  was  ascribed  to  psychological  growth  following 
wider  experience,  was  not  recognized  for  some  time.  When 
the  true  explanation  was  found  the  problem  acquired  wider 
proportions.  B  II  then  had  apparently  grown  into  a 
character  differing  almost  as  widely  from  B  las  from  B  IV. 

Two  hypotheses  were  now  admissible :  (l)BI-l-BIV 
might  be  the  real  self,  that  is,  B  X  (not  yet  found) ;  (2)  B  II 
might  be  the  actual  real  self,  but  in  hypnosis,  which  self 
became  disintegrated  at  one  time  into  B  I  and  at  another 
into  B  IV.      In  either  case  it  was  plain  that  B  11  was 

IS   B  II  THE   REAL  MISS  BEAUCHAMP?       305 

not  a  hypnotized  fragment  of  B  I  or  B  IV  alone,  for  she 
had  a  larger  field  of  consciousness  than  either,  and  her 
memories  included  the  memories  of  both.  The  real  self, 
then,  might  be  X,  some  one  we  had  not  yet  seen,  or  it  might 
be  B  II  awake.  If  the  second  hypothesis  was  the  correct 
one,  then  B  II  would  be  the  real  self  (in  hypnosis)  whom 
I  had  been  hunting  for.  Under  both  hypotheses  B  I  and 
B  IV  would  each  be  mutilated  selves,  parts  only  of  the  real 
self,  each  a  sort  of  somnambulistic  personage. 

It  was  quite  possible,  however,  that  the  hypotheses  were 
not  exclusive  of  one  another,  but  that  both  hypotheses 
might  be  correct ;  which  would  mean  that  B  X  (or  B  I  + 
B  IV)  in  hypnosis  was  B  II. 

We  have  spoken  always  of  B  I  and  B  IV  being  hypno- 
tized into  B  11.  According  to  the  second  hypothesis,  as 
B  II  was  a  synthesis  of  B  I  and  B  IV,  the  process  was 
in  part  the  reverse  of  this;  instead  of  being  hypnotized 
into  B  II,  B  I  and  B  IV  would  be  each  partially  waked 
up  when  changing  to  B  II,  —  partially,  because  the  person 
was  in  hypnosis.  The  process,  instead  of  hypnotizing, 
would  be  one  of  awakening  into  real  life,  because  it  was 
a  synthesizing  of  dissociated  groups  of  mental  states. 
Conversely,  when  B  II  was  said  to  wake  up,  what  really 
happened  was  that  she  became  disintegrated.  Her  mind 
became  cleft  into  two  dissociated  systems,  one  system 
representing  B  I  and  the  other  B  IV.  From  a  technical 
point  of  view  she  would  be  said  to  go  into  two  somnam- 
bulistic conditions  respectively.  Whether  she  went  into 
one  state  or  the  other  was  apparently  a  matter  of  chance. 
.  If  the  cleavage  was  in  one  direction  she  became  B  I ;  if  in 
another,  B  IV.  In  each  state  certain  portions  of  the  mind 
or  brain  became  dormant.  The  first  of  the  new  hypotheses 
also  involved  a  similar  cleavage  of  B  X  into  B  I  and  B  IV. 

It  remained  to  test  the  hypotheses.  If  B  II  was  the 
real  self  asleep,  it  would  be  necessar}^  only  to  keep  her 



herself  and  have  her  open  her  eyes  and  awake,  and  she 
would  straightway  walk  forth  resurrected,  whole,  and  un- 
mutilated.  In  spite  of  the  risks  I  determined  to  try  the 

One  day  B  II  was  brought.  After  talking  to  her  a  short 
time,  I  said,  "  Listen  to  what  I  say.  I  want  you  to  open 
your  eyes;  to  remain  yourself  as  you  are  now;  not  to 
change  to  B  I  or  B  IV,  but  be  yourself,"  etc. ;  then  finally 
I  commanded,  "  Open  your  eyes."  Her  eyes  opened.  She 
looked  about  with  a  vacant  look  on  her  face.  She  did 
not  know  me  or  the  room.  She  knew  very  little  about 
herself,  or,  in  fact,  anybody  else.  She  said  she  must  go, 
but  did  not  know  where  she  was  going  or  where  she 
lived.  Her  mental  associations  were  completely  dis- 
organized.    She  seemed  to  be  a  dement. 

The  experiment  was  plainly  a  failure.  It  was  evident 
that  she  could  not  be  allowed  to  go  about  in  that  state,  so 
I  closed  her  eyes  again  and  brought  B  II,  who,  however, 
could  throw  no  light  on  the  matter.  She  did  not  know 
why  she  had  developed  such  confusion  when  her  eyes  were 
opened,  though  she  remembered  the  fact  of  having  been  a 
moment  before  in  that  condition.  The  experiment  was 
repeated  later,  but  again  failed. 

It  remained  necessary  to  test  the  first  hypothesis  and  see 
if  B  I  and  B  IV  could  be  blended  into  one  personality,  — 
the  real  self. 

This  is  a  good  place,  before  describing  the  results  of 
these  experiments,  to  record  another  discovery,  although  it 
was  not  made  until  a  much  later  period.  This  discovery 
explained  the  apparent  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
\^the  character  of  B  II,  and  her  identity  with  B  VI.  Our 
present  B  II  was  not  the  original  B  11^  the  hypnotic  self 
which  appeared  the  first  time  Miss  Beauchamp  was  hypno- 
tized, before  Sally's  advent. 


It  will  be  remembered  that  the  original  B  II  was  de- 
scribed as  a  passive  hypnotic  state,  having  for  the  most  part 
the  characteristics  of  B  I  and  into  which  the  latter  went 
when  hypnotized.  Later  this  B  II  was  replaced  by  Sally 
and  very  little  was  seen  of  her  until  about  the  time  when 
the  discovery  was  made  that  B  I  and  B  IV  became  the 
same  when  hypnotized.  It  was  assumed  that  the  resulting 
hypnotic  self  was  the  same  as  the  original  B  II,  though  the 
differences  which  have  been  pointed  out  were  noticed.  The 
changes  in  character  were  attributed  to  the  effect  of  educa- 
tion, as  they  well  might  be.  But  as  time  went  on  it  was 
found  that  while  the  original  B  II  was  plainly  B  I  in  char- 
acter, the  present  B  II  showed  distinct  differences,  which  be- 
came more  and  more  marked  as  Miss  Beauchamp's  trouble 
subsided.  She  did  not  have  the  saintlike  attitude  of  B  I 
any  more  than  she  had  the  belligerent  irascibility  of  B  IV  ; 
rather,  she  exhibited  a  well-balanced  poise  of  mind  which 
spoke  for  normality.  She  was  not  only  simple  and 
truthful,  but  her  point  of  view  was  plain  common-sense. 
The  suspicion  arose  that  the  original  conception  of  B  II 
was  erroneous,  but  later  the  original  state  reappeared.  It 
was  then  found  that  this  state  was  an  entirely  different 
one  from  the  New  B  II  with  which  we  had  been  dealing 
of  late.  The  test  of  memory  alone  proved  this.  This 
original  state  which  frequently  reappeared  had  no  knowl- 
edge of  B  IV,  as  the  New  B  II  had.  She  knew  only  her- 
self as  B  I,  as  formerly  was  the  case.  In  character,  too, 
she  was  easily  recognized  as  the  original  B  II :  there  was 
no  mistaking  her.  In  other  words,  she  was  only  B  I 
hypnotized ;  she  in  no  way  partook  of  B  IV.  It  seemed 
best  then  to  rename  the  original  hypnotic  state,  B  la. 

From  these  observations  it  was  plain  that  B  I  when  hyp- 
notized went  into  two  different  states:  B  la,  and  B  II 
(=  B  VI). 

We  may  construct  a  scheme  to  illustrate  the  relations  to 


each  other  of  the  different  psychical  groups  and  the  mem- 
ories which  each  possessed,  dissociation  being  indicated  by 
broken  lines  and  synthesis  by  solid  lines : 





The  memories  of  B  la  were  not  perceptibly  broader 
than  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  but  if  the  process  of  "  hypno- 
tizing "  was  carried  farther,  a  very  great  change  took  place. 
The  memories  of  B  IV  became  added  to  those  of  B  I,  and 
she  became  B  II;  so  that  in  this  rearrangement  of  the 
mental  groups  there  was  more  than  a  dissociation  (hyp- 
nosis) ;  there  was  a  putting  together  of  the  memories  of 
previously  dissociated  groups  (B  I  and  B  IV). 

Later  still,  as  will  appear,  it  was  found  that  B  IV  could 
be  put  into  a  hypnotic  state  corresponding  to  Bla,  and 
this  state  was  named  B  IV  a.  It  played  a  very  important 
and  obstreperous  part  in  the  solution  of  the  problem.  As 
with  I  a,  when  IV  a  was  still  further  "  hypnotized  "  (really 
synthesized),  it  became  B  II. 

We  could  then  add  to  our  scheme  as  follows : 


B  la 



B  11 

IS   BII  THE   REAL  MISS   BEAUCHAMP  ?       309 

It  had  been  hoped  that  by  waking  up  B  II  the  real  self 
would  be  obtained.  This  experiment  had  proved  a  failure, 
for  on  being  awakened  B  II  became  only  a  sort  of  dement. 
That  she  should  be  such  was  a  paradox.  The  question 
now  was,  Can  B  I  be  synthesized  with  B  IV,  and  will  the 
resulting  personality,  X,  be  the  real  self  ?  If  so,  it  would 
follow  that  by  the  disintegration  of  B  X,  B  I,  and  B  IV 
had-  resulted.  Our  scheme  might  then  hypothetically  be 
thus  enlarged : 

B  X  [unknown] 



B  II 

It  is  to  be  understood  that  these  symbols  represent  alterna- 
ting or  successive  states,  and  not  contemporaneous  states. 

A  series  of  experiments  was  now  undertaken  with  the 
view  of  synthesizing  the  memories  of  B  I  and  B  IV  by 
means  of  suggestion  to  B  II.  They  were  interrupted  by 
the  outbreak  of  family  rows  which  compelled  the  postpone- 
ment of  the  study.  As  far  as  they  went,  some  very  inter- 
esting results  were  obtained.  As  these  experiments  were 
resumed  at  a  later  period,  the  details  may  be  deferred  until 
those  more  complete  observations  are  described.  It  may 
here  simply  be  stated  that  it  was  found  possible  by  means 
of  suggestions  to  B  II  to  bring  back  to  B  I  and  B  IV, 
respectively,  memories  of  specific  events  in  the  life  of  the 
other  ;  in  other  words,  to  synthesize  specific  mental  states. 
Beyond  this  at  this  time  the  experiments  were  not  carried. 



WE  must  now  take  up  again  the  thread  of  Miss  Beau- 
champ's  life. 

During  the  autumn  and  winter  (1899-1900),  while  these 
studies  were  being  made,  the  vicissitudes  of  a  triple  person- 
ality were  going  on.  Sally  had  largely  transferred  her 
interests  from  B  I  to  B  IV,  whom  she  liked  better.  Leav- 
ing B  I,  whom  she  regarded  as  a  weakling,  a  sentimentalist, 
to  go  her  own  way  alone,  she  expended  her  energy  on 
B  IV,  whom  she  persisted  in  hazing  as  she  used  to  haze 
B  I.  It  must  not  be  thought  that  Sally  was  actuated 
solely  by  a  desire  to  annoy  and  torment ;  that  was  not  her 
idea.  The  trouble  was  that  she  found  the  daily  life  of  B  I 
and  B  IV  dull  and  boresome,  and,  as  she  used  to  say  in 
reply  to  remonstrances,  "  What  is  there  for  me  to  do  ? " 
Tormenting  the  others  was  a  game  which,  childlike,  she 
delighted  to  play.  She  could  n't  sit  at  home,  twirling  her 
thumbs  and  doing  nothing,  and  so  she  occupied  the  time 
writing  notes  that  would  bring  a  return  volley  on  her  head  ; 
or  in  doing  or  undoing,  as  the  case  might  be,  something 
which  the  others  disliked  or  liked,  if  only  the  arrangement 
of  the  furniture  in  the  room. 

Then,  too,  she  wanted  her  way  as  much  as  the  others 
wanted  theii"S.  She  would  promise  again  and  again  to  have 
no  intercourse  whatsoever  with  the  family,  but,  as  she  used 
to  say  even  while  promising,  she  could  not  keep  promises 
of  this  kind.  It  was  really  impossible  to  provide  her  with 
amusement.     The  outdoor  sports,  the  adventures,  and  the 


strenuous  life  which  she  loved  were  impossible  for  Miss 
Beauchamp.  One  can  imagine  the  difficulty  of  providing 
three  kinds  of  lives,  for  one  and  the  same  individual,  to  be 
pursued  at  different  hours,  and  even  the  same  hour  of  the 
same  day.  The  result  was  that  Sally,  having  nothing  to 
do,  found  her  enjoyment  in  teasing  the  others.  She  did  not 
hate  IV  as  she  hated  B  I ;  with  IV  it  was  more  the  excite- 
ment of  playing  the  game.  Then  too,  IV  took  it  all  dif- 
ferently from  what  B  I  did.  B  I  was  terrorized  by  Sally. 
IV  was  unterrified,  defiant,  determined  to  be  mistress  of 
herself,  "  If  Sally  is  only  a  part  of  myself,"  she  would 
say,  "  I  will  conquer  tliis  thing ; "  and  she  insisted  on  fight- 
ing it  out.  Sally,  on  her  part,  would  say,  "  I  cannot 
frighten  her  as  I  can  Miss  Beauchamp,"  at  the  same  time 
pointing  out  that  she  herself  was  at  a  great  disadvantage 
because  she  did  not  know  IV's  thoughts.  Sometimes  one 
would  get  the  upper  hand,  and  sometimes- the  other,  B  IV's 
point  of  weakness  being  that  B  I's  anxiety  and  her  own 
battling  would  bring  insomnia  and  fatigue  to  the  family 
body,  and  then,  lier  physical  strength  going,  she  would 
become  temporarily  discouraged,  but  never  for  a  moment 
thought  of  yielding. 

She  was  able  to  take  advantage  in  an  ingenious  way  of 
Sally's  ignorance  of  her  thoughts.  Believing  that  Sally 
was  watching  and  listening,  spying  upon  her  every  act,  and 
ready  to  infer  her  thoughts  and  motives  from  what  she  did, 
she  would  do  all  kinds  of  things  to  mislead  Sally  as  to  her 
own  real  character  and  intentions.  She  would  lead  her  on 
false  scents,  give  her,  to  use  the  slang  of  school  parlance, 
"  crooked  steers,"  making  herself  appear  by  her  woixls  and 
acts  heartless,  without  emotion,  and  indifferent  to  every- 
thing that  Miss  Beauchamp  held  dear.  Once  or  twice  at  a 
somewhat  later  date  (June,  1900),  Sally,  by  a  device,  dis- 
covered IV's  thoughts,  and  then  her  astonishment  at  the 
revelation  was  extreme,  for  she  found  them  very  different 


from  what  she  had  imagined.  The  same  surprise  constantly 
awaited  her  when  accidental  discoveries  revealed  TV's  real 
motives  and  intentions.  IV  would  go  to  no  end  of  pains  to 
deceive  Sally;  as,  for  instance,  one  day,  being  much  dis- 
tressed by  a  certain  event,  she  wound  a  cloth  around  her 
head,  as  if  it  were  a  headache  that  was  oppressing  her  and 
not  her  mental  agitation. 

Sally  used  at  first  to  take  things  au  pied  de  la  lettre^  but 
later  caught  on  to  IV's  dodges.  One  difficulty  one  always 
had  to  contend  with,  namely,  Sally's  childhke  credulity. 
IV  would  play  upon  this,  telling  Sally  all  sorts  of  things 
in  order  to  circumvent  me  and  bring  about  her  own  ends. 
"  IV  says  you  really  don't  want  me  to  do  "  so  and  so ;  "  IV 
says  you  want  this  " ;  or  "  IV  says  that,"  Sally  would  say, 
—  each  thing  being  directly  contrary  to  my  wishes,  and 
generally  of  great  importance. 

IV  and  Sally  kept  up  a  mutual  correspondence,  which 
was  carried  on  sometimes  by  Sally's  using  IV's  hand  and 
writing  automatically  as  a  subconscious  self,  and  sometimes 
by  writing  in  the  waking  state,  as  the  personalities  changed 
back  and  forth.  IV  would  in  this  way  artfuUy  make  use 
of  Sally  to  keep  herself  informed  of  all  that  took  place 
when  B  I  and  Sally  were  in  the  flesh,  in  return  for  which 
information  she  would  throw  Sally  a  sop  in  the  way  of  a 
present,  or  acquiesce  in  some  particular  forbidden  fruit's 
being  plucked. 

Sometimes  the  two  would  engage  in  bickerings,  like  two 
squabbling  children,  each  scribbling  cutting  remarks  and 
retorts  to  the  other.  On  some  of  these  occasions,  coming 
unexpectedly  into  the  room,  I  would  find  pieces  of  paper 
scribbled  over  with  conversations  of  this  kind.  Sally  was 
obliged  to  write  her  own  little  pleasantries,  but  IV  could 
communicate  hers  by  speaking  aloud ;  so  Sally  would  hear 
many  a  little  muttered,  left-handed  compliment,  as  well  as 
matters  of  interest.     "  Little  beast,"  or  "  Fool,"  IV  would 


mutter ;  or,  if  in  a  friendly  mood,  words  of  information  or 

There  were  times  when  IV  and  Sally  would  enter  into 
systematic  campaigns  of  hostilities,  each  determined  to 
down  the  other.  Then  IV  would  gird  on  her  armor,  and 
set  forth  resolute,  uncompromising,  with  blood  in  her  eye, 
determined  to  suppress  Sally  for  good  and  all.  She  would 
do  her  best  to  destroy  everything  that  her  enemy  wrote  — 
many  a  letter  to  me  was  destroyed  —  and  to  undo  every- 
thing done.  Whatever  she  discovered  Sally  was  doing,  or 
imagined  she  was  doing,  she  would  reverse.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, she  found  herself  on  the  way  to  my  house,  she 
would  turn  about  and  retrace  her  steps,  or  at  least  would 
try  to  do  so,  for  Sally,  in  her  role  as  a  subconsciousness, 
would  at  once  make  a  dive  for  the  muscular  steering  gear, 
there  would  be  a  temporary  struggle  with  arms  and  legs,  a 
sort  of  aboulia,  and  then  it  usually  happened  that  Sally, 
victorious,  would  reverse  the  machinery  and  head  her  again 
for  her  destination.  At  night,  too,  Sally  would  have  another 
turn.  As  fast  as  IV  would  get  into  bed,  Sally,  coming 
herself,  would  get  up,  and  then,  changing  heraelf  back  to 
IV,  the  latter  would  find  herself  to  her  disgust  out  of  bed 
again.  And  so  it  went  on  all  night;  and  if  IV  got  off 
without  the  bed  and  furniture  being  turned  upside  down, 
she  was  lucky. 

Then  again  Sally  would  refuse  to  write  IV  a  line  of  in- 
formation, thus  leaving  her  in  the  dark  as  to  the  course  of 
events.  This  would  worry  IV  more  than  the  hazing,  for 
without  information  she  was  lost.  At  the  end  of  about 
two  weeks  of  hostilities  IV  would  appear,  with  her  plu- 
mage plucked,  like  the  historical  parrot  after  the  scrap 
with  the  monkey,  and  then,  thoroughly  worn  out,  she 
would  consent  to  my  mediation.  But  during  it  all  poor 
B  I  would  come  from  time  to  time,  to  find  before  her  the 
mortifying  evidences  of  her  other  selves'  behavior. 


The  continuing  difficulties  arising  from  the  correspond- 
ence with  Anna  and  others  added  to  the  confusion.  Sally, 
upon  whose  shoulders  the  culpability  must  be  placed, 
was  in  constant  communication  with  forbidden  correspond- 
ents, to  Miss  Beauchamp's  annoyance.  They  must  have 
been  sorely  puzzled,  not  to  say  distracted,  by  the  con- 
tradictory actions  of  the  family.  All  this  correspondence, 
harmless  in  itself,  might  have  been  disregarded  if  it  had 
not  given  encouragement  to  Sally's  independence. 

But  aside  from  this  particular  influence,  when,  as  was  at 
times  the  case,  Sally  passed  the  bounds  of  all  control,  there 
was  one  card  which  it  was  possible  to  play  with  telling 
effect.  In  such  emergencies,  when  B  I  or  B  IV  was 
driven  to  distraction  by  Sally's  hazing,  I  would  threaten  to 
lay  the  whole  case  before  one  high  in  authority.  Sally, 
remembering  the  past,  and  terrified  by  the  danger  whicli 
threatened  others,  would  thus  be  brought  to  her  knees  and 
reduced  to  submission  —  for  about  two  weeks  1 

Some  knowledge  of  all  this  is  necessary  to  understand 
her  correspondence,  and  the  other  scraps  of  writing  which 
are  included  in  this  account.  It  will  also  enable  one  to 
understand  some  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  thera- 
peutics, which  at  times  made  it  impossible  to  pui-sue  any 
systematic  method  of  care,  and  even  of  experimentation. 

Here  are  some  scraps  I  surprised  IV  in  the  act  of  writ- 
ing, while  Sally  Avas  trying  to  reproduce  automatically 
some  of  the  destroyed  autobiogi'aphy : 

"  My  precious  Sally  —  Have  you  eaten  my  manuscript?  If 
not,  kindly  produce  it.     I  am  waiting,  and  so  is  the  doctor. " 

"  Ah  ho !     Ah  ho !  wake  up  Sally,  Ton  are  afraid. 
But  oh  the  fear  lest  a  thought  should  "  — 

"  O  Sally  dear,  my  lips  shall  be  mute  if  you  will  only  come 
back  to  me.  You  may  have  the  [photograph]  frame  and  all 
else  that  you  wish." 


Here  are  two  notes  written  by  Sally,  but  apparently  to 
Miss  Beaucbamp  rather  than  IV : 

^  Thou  has  sinned,  '^ 

Thou  hast  done  amiss  and  dealt  wickedly,  ^ 

\  The  sorrows  of  death  shall  compass  thee  about.  ^ 

f  The  pains  of  hell  shall  come  upon  thee,  "^ 

^     Thou  Shalt  find  no  help,  ^  " 

\  No  comfort  in  heaven  or  in  earth."         ^ 

[To  B  IV.] 

"  My  Chris  she  hauls  me  round  the  house. 
She  hoists  me  up  the  stairs. 
I  only  have  to  will  her. 
And  she  takes  me  every wheres. 

"  Because  she  loves  me  so. 

"Written  by  Sally's  friend,  G.  B." 

'■'•  FOURTEEN^  in  one  day,  you  abandoned  little  wretch! 
And  after  all  you  have  n't  deceived  them.  You  are  reckoning 
without  S.  B.     She  corrects  all  your  errors  for  you." 

The  last  three  were  found  by  B  I  and  inclosed  in  the  fol- 
lowing note  to  me.  There  was  also  inclosed  (either  acci- 
dentally or  by  Sally)  a  fragment,  the  eleventh  page  of 
another  letter  to  some  one  else. 

"Can  I  see  you  for  a  few  moments  some  time  this  week? 
AVednesday  afternoon,  if  possible?  You  misunderstood  my  im- 
patience yesterday ;  it  was  not  with  you  —  only  with  myself, 
and  my  own  weakness." 

[Fragment  of  letter  from  B  I  to  Z .]    "But  sometimes 

the  weight  of  this  strange  curse  presses  so  heavily  upon  me 
that  it  seems  as  if  it  would  crush  my  very  life  out,  and  I  hardly 
know  what  I  say  or  what  I  do.  And  it  tires  me  so !  You  know 
how  long  it  has  lasted  —  how  great  the  strain.   ..." 

^  Lies. 


Unlike  B  I,  B  IV  had  a  fine  appetite  and  liked  good 
food.  Sally  frequently  guyed  her  on  this  human  weak- 
ness. One  day  IV,  coming  to  herself,  found  herself  con- 
templating with  great  interest  the  following  nonsense 
verses : 

"  The  greedy  piglet  1 
See  her  mug 
Upturned  to  suck 
The  honey  jug. 
Oh,  shame ! 
Oh,  shame ! " 

After  writing  this  poetic  reflection  (whether  original  or 
not  I  do  not  know)  on  IV's  carnal  appetite,  Sally  had 
changed  herself  to  IV  to  enjoy  the  result. 

Here  is  a  note  from  Sally  to  me,  after  her  first  attempt 
at  the  autobiography,  describing  her  difficulty  in  analyzing 
her  thoughts  as  a  subconscious  self  and  making  clear  how 
they  ran  synchronously  along  side  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
thoughts.  On  the  outside  of  the  envelope  was  written: 
"  B  IV  is  not  a  person.  Why  do  you  all  insist  that  she 
is  ?     I  know  she 's  rattled." 

"  Can't  you  somehow  make  me  more  clever,  so  that  I  can  write 
this  old  thing  decently?  It  really  is  n't  half  expressed,  and  the 
nasty  thing  won't  say  at  all  what  I  mean.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
better  if  I  divided  the  page  [into  parallel  columns]  and  carried 
it  on  that  way,  would  it?  That  was  really  the  way  the  thought 
went,  you  know,  until  I  got  my  eyes  open.  She  could  cor- 
rect her  side  if  you  wished  —  if  you  think  she  would  be  more 

"  B  IV  will  probably  have  a  very  woeful  tale  to  relate  when 
she  sees  you.  She  thinks  the  millennium  farther  off  than  ever, 
for  I  have  made  her  sick  as  a  little  dog  on  cabanas  [cigarettes]. 
I  want  her  to  realize  the  superiority  of  her  better  self.  Is  n't  it 
awfully  good  of  me,  for  I  'd  heaps  rather  smoke  them  myself, 
you  know  ?    She 's  too  done  up  to  be  even  cross." 


A  failure  on  my  part  to  recognize  the  manuscript  of  the 
autobiography,  and  the  consequent  scolding  of  Sally  over 
the  head  of  B  IV,  brought  this  wrathful  letter  from  the 
former : 

"  Autobiography. 
"  If  you  no  longer  want  it,  please  put  it  in  the  fire.    I  'm  not 
repentant,  nor  sorry  for  my  sins,  nor  anxious  to  comfort  the 
poor  afflicted  family.    They  may  go  to  the  devil. 
"  Amen,  amen." 

[From  Sally  to  B  L]  "  You  may  tell  Dr.  Prince  that  III  is 
absent  from  home  on  a  scouting  expedition  for  Dicky,  and  that 
you  don't  know  when  she  will  return.  Repeat  this  exactly,  but 
don't  show  him  this  paper  or  you  may  be  very,  very  sorry.  I  do 
not  choose  to  be  psychologized  by  any  one. 


But  Sally  soon  became  alarmed  by  the  consequences  of 
her  pranks,  which  resulted  in  making  IV  ill  and  spoiling 
her  own  fun.  Sally's  confession  is  contained  in  the  follow- 
ing letter,  which  aroused  IV's  indignation  when  she  read 
Sally's  msulting  reference :  — 

[Sally  to  Dr.  P.]  "  You  won't  be  cross  with  me,  please,  if  I 
confess  that  I  've  been  teasing  B  IV  lately  —  much  more  than 
she  told  you  about.  And  I  am  beginning  to  be  afraid  that  it 
has  n't  been  very  good  for  her,  for  she  seems  to  be  getting  all 
tired  or  sick  or  something.  What  shall  I  do  with  her?  She 
is  n't  a  real  person  —  I  know  she  is  n't ;  yet  one  cannot  help 
feeling  sorry  for  her  sometimes,  she  is  so  perfectly  helpless. 
Perhaps  I  'm  responsible  for  some  of  her  bad  temper,  too.  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  everything.  But  she  is  the  most  exasper- 
ating monkey  you  ever  saw.     One  needs  must  take  her  ..." 

"  Thursday.    [January,  1900.] 
[From  Sally.]     "  Many  thanks  for  your  note.     Being  a  brick 
is  loads  nicer  than  gaining  a  moral  victory.     I  hate  morals  and 
victories  too.     Do  you  know   Dicky  and  I  are  great  friends 


now.  I  go  to  see  him.  He  does  u't  consider  me  a  subliminal 
at  all,  on  his  honor ;  and  I  may  stay,  and  he  's  going  to  hyp- 
notize me  to  get  at  the  real  subliminal.  Is  n't  it  amusing  ? 
Will  he  call  it  B  V,  and  will  he  make  it  tell  him  all  about  me  ? 
I  think  it 's  awfully  funny,  but  I  can't  conceive  of  things  being 
done  without  my  knowledge,  even  in  hypnosis.  They  never  have 
been,  you  know,  since  that  very,  very  early  time  when  I  used 
to  sleep.  Shall  I  tell  you  more  about  the  experiments  as  we 
go  on,  or  do  you  prefer  getting  it  all  from  Dicky's  point  of 
view,  as  more  scientific  ?  Perhaps  I  may  not  know  much  about 
it  anyway,  except  the  things  I  do  to  [B]  I  and  IV. 

"  Which  of  the  family  do  you  want  to  see  to-morrow?  You 
have  a  wide  choice  —  I,  II,  III,  IV,  and  V,  if  Dicky  gets  it. 
I  is  blue ;  II  f uzzling ;  III ;  IV  cranky.  IV  is  also  dis- 
turbed, enough  so  to  lie  awake  all  last  night  because  of  Mr. 
C.'s  determination  to  have  her  confirmed  this  year.  She  never 
has  been,  you  know ;  but  it  is  really  impossible  now,  for  she  's 
not  fit.  She  's  always  erring  and  straying.  She  can't  be  con- 
firmed. Dr.  Prince  —  you  know  she  can't,  for  she  is  n't  going  to 
stay.  B  I  won't  like  it.  I  never  dreamed  of  your  knowing 
Mr.  C.  Please  say  she  must  not  be  confirmed.  1  'm  sorry  this 
is  so  long,  for  I  see  you  are  awfully  tired,  but  I  wanted  just  to 
tell  you  these  things.  Shall  I  go  on  with  the  writing,  or  is  it 
too  bad?  Please  leave  the  books  for  me.  Dicky  says  anything 
will  suit  him.  He  won't  be  critical,  and  he  is  very  anxious  to 
have  it.  Not  from  Sally  Beauchamp  but  from  [here  Sally 
writes  her  real  name]. 

' '  Le  roi  est  mort.    Vive  le  roi !  " 

[January  24,  1900.] 
[From  B  IV.]  "  It  is  really  too  absurd  for  me  to  bore  you 
with  complaints  of  Sally,  for  I  know  you  think  I  deserve  all  I 
get  from  her,  and  perhaps  I  do.  I  won't  come  again  or  write 
you.  My  only  thought  in  asking  you  to  let  me  come  regularly 
and  tell  you  everything  that  had  happened  was  that  by  so  doing 
you  might  perhaps  control  both  Sally  and  myself  and  make  one 
real  person,  as  she  would  say,  out  of  us.  I  know  she  does  n't 
think  very  much  of  me.  I  don't  myself.  I  know  that  what  she 
says  is  true  enough.   I  am  perfectly  unresponsive  to  all  the  things 


that  used  to  touch  me  most  nearly.^  Not  that  I  care,  for  I 
don't ;  yet  I  am  conscious  of  my  deficiencies,  and  I  suppose  they 
are  what  trouble  her.  Emotionally  and  spiritually  I  am  dead, 
although  still  knowing  that  I  ought  to  feel  and  to  do  certain 
things.  But  I  don't  feel  them  and  I  donH  do  them.  Why?  I 
cannot  say.  I  had  hoped  that  you  could,  and  that  you  would  help 
me.  You  seem  to  know  so  much.  But  I  am  afraid  I  have 
taxed  you  beyond  all  reason.  You  must  pardon  me  for  being 
so  inconsiderate.     Very  truly  yours," 

[From  Sally.]  "...  She 's  [IV]  so  stuffy.  .  .  .  She's  spend- 
ing all  her  allowance  on  carfares.     I  call  it  sheer  extravagance ! 

I  've  taken  her  stamps  away  so  she  can't  write  you  again.  You 
are  glad  of  that,  are  n't  you  ?  It 's  such  a  bother  when  you  are 
busy  to  keep  getting  letters." 

On  Februciiy  4  some  interesting  psychological  phe- 
nomena were  observed.  They  are  too  complicated  to  make 
it  desirable  to  interrupt  this  narrative  with  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  them.  But  the  important  thing  is  that  Sally  was 
told  to  hypnotize  IV  and  bring  B  II.  This  Sally  did,  but 
her  influence  was  not  complete,  or  else  she  did  not  go 
about  it  right.     At  any  rate,  instead  of  obtaining  the  real 

II  she  put  IV  into  what  Sally  called  a  half -hypnotic  state. 
In  other  words,  IV  was  disintegrated  into  another  quasi- 
personality.  In  this  condition  B  IV  was  half  hypnotized, — 
disintegrated,  or  "  rattled  "  as  Sally  expressively  called  it, 
—  was  very  confused  as  to  lier  sun'oundings,  and  scarcely 
recognized  any  one,  but  replied  to  all  questions  by  simply 
following  leads  and  answering  as  it  seemed  to  her  she  was 
expected  to  do. 

As  will  appear  when  we  come  to  study  disintegration, 
it  is  possible  to  break  up  temporarily  B  I,  B  IV,  and  cnen 
B  II,  so  that  they  will  lose  their  cognition  of  surroundings, 
and  many  of  their   chains   of  memory.     These   different 

1  This  whole  statement  ia  a  characteristic  lie,  and  intended  equally  for 
Sally's  consiun])tioii. 


disintegrated  states  of  consciousness  might  then,  if  one 
chooses,  be  numbered,  and  possibly  educated  into  person- 
alities, if  a  sufficient  quantity  of  consciousness  persisted. 
Now  making  use  of  Sally  to  influence  IV  was  playing 
with  edged  tools,  for  Sally  was  so  delighted  when  she  dis- 
covered her  "  hypnotic  "  power  that  she  immediately  pro- 
ceeded surreptitiously  to  make  use  of  it.  She  kept  putting 
IV  into  this  "  half-hypnotic  state "  and  then,  the  better  to 
make  her  enemy  realize  her  power,  wrote  her  a  letter  saying 
that  she  could  hypnotize  her,  had  done  so,  and  would  do  so 
again.  In  this  Sally  was  diabolically  clever ;  for  it  was  for 
the  deliberate  purpose  that  she  might  make  IV  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  she  was  being  hypnotized,  and  therefore  in 
Sally's  power,  that  she  did  the  deed  by  means  of  a  letter, 
copying  the  method  and  the  exact  words  I  once  employed 
to  overcome  insomnia  in  Miss  Beauchamp.  The  letter  ran 
as  follows : 

"  Tell  M.  P.  to  chase  himself,  Becky,^  and,  as  you  read, 
slowly,  slowly,  your  lids  grow  heavy  —  they  droop,  droop,  droop ; 
you  're  going,  going,  gone." 

When  B  IV  opened  the  letter  and  read  it,  she  promptly 
went  into  an  hypnotic  trance.  This  effect  of  this  written 
suggestion  I  had  the  opportunity,  though  unintentionally, 
of  corroborating.  Wishing  to  record  the  letter  with  my 
notes,  I  read  it  into  the  phonograph  in  Miss  Beauchamp's 
presence.  As  she  heard  the  words,  the  expression  of  her 
face  changed,  her  lids  drooped,  and  she  went  again  into  a 
half-hypnotic  state. 

To  hypnotize  thus  either  of  the  other  personalities  was 
too  dangerous  a  power  to  leave  in  Sally's  hands,  so  of 
course  Sally  came  in  for  a  good  drubbing  for  her  behavior 
and  never  to  my  knowledge  tried  her  hypnotic  power 
again.     But  meanwhile  IV  was  much  perturbed  at  finding 

1  Becky  Sharp,  oue  of  Sally's  nickuames  for  IV. 


the  battle  going  against  her  and  herself  in  Sally's  power, 
and  as  usual  the  final  result  was  mental  agitation,  headache, 
and  insomnia. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  investigation  into  these  goings 
on  and  the  various  psychical  phenomena  manifested  that 
there  were  witnessed  some  very  amusing  hallucinations  in 
IV  induced  by  Sally.  But  more  important  from  the  j)oint 
of  view  of  guardianship,  my  authority  became  endangered 
and  I  found  myself  engaged  in  a  battle  for  control;  for 
Sally,  having  defeated  IV,  turned  her  guns  upon  me.  It 
was  evident  that  either  Sally  or  I  must  be  master.  If  I 
gave  in,  my  authority  was  at  an  end. 

It  came  about  in  this  wise.  I  had  endeavored  to  change 
IV  into  B  II,  but  could  obtain  only  the  hypnotic  state 
B  I V  a,^  evidently  prevented  by  Sally,  whose  hand  was  ap- 
parent from  certain  characteristic  manifestations.  It  ended 
in  Sally's  coming  instead  of  B  II,  and  I  proceeded  to  lec- 
ture her  on  her  conduct ;  but  while  in  the  act  of  doing  so 
she  cleverly  escaped  by  changing  herself  back  again  to  IV. 
To  this  personality  an  attempt  was  made  to  explain  the 

"  Sally  has  been  behaving  very  badly,"  I  began. 

IV  repeated  the  sentence  as  she  heard  it,  the  woidsj 
being  transformed  into  others  having  an  opposite  meaning. 

"  Sally  has  been  behaving  heautifullyy 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  badly r 

"  Yes,"  she  repeated,  "  beautifully.'''' 

"  No,  no ;  badly r 

"  Yes,  beautifully.^^ 

"  No ;  badly,  not  beautifully ^ 

"  Yes,  I  understand ;  beautifully^  beautifully ^ 

Thus  for  the  moment  I  was  circumvented.  It  was  in 
vain  that  I  sought  to  make  her  hear  the  word  "  badly." 
It  became  apparent  tliat  Sally  twisted  in  her  mind  every- 

1  Chapter  XXVII. 


thing  that  I  said  so  as  to  give  it  an  opposite  meaning. 
She  became  deaf  to  certain  words  (negative  hallucinations) 
and  heard  in  their  places  other  words  of  a  different  signifi- 
cation. Everything  that  was  said  in  criticism  of  Sally 
she  heard  and  understood  in  Sally's  praise  ;  she  even  said 
repeatedly  that  she  liked  Sally,  had  no  fault  to  find  with 
her,  was  reconciled  to  her,  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her, 
and  so  on.  Finally  she  ended  by  refusing  to  obey,  assert- 
ing that  she  was  her  own  mistress,  would  go  where  she 
pleased,  and  do  as  she  pleased.  This,  too,  was  plainly  the 
V^work  of  Sally,  who  had  taken  possession  of  her  tongue. 
But  most  dramatic  was  the  assertion  of  her  own  personality 
in  the  midst  of  these  sentences.  Every  now  and  then, 
like  one  pursued  by  an  invisible  demon,  and  as  if  momen- 
tarily she  had  broken  away  from  the  power  that  bound  her, 
she  would  exclaim,  "  Don't  let  me  speak  like  that  I "  and 
then  the  next  instant  she  would  give  utterance  to  Sally's 

It  was  impossible  to  make  her  understand  anything  de- 
rogatory to  Sally,  or  even  the  directions  I  gave  for  her  own 
guidance.  However,  I  was  not  to  be  beaten  so  easily. 
Sally,  as  already  told,  had  often  been  defeated  by  being 
hypnotized  with  mock  ether.  It  occurred  to  me  that  pos- 
sibly I  could  produce  the  same  effect  on  Sally  while  she 
was  still  a  subconsciousness ;  that  is,  while  B  II  was  present. 
My  scheme  was  to  hypnotize  B  II  and  at  the  same  time 
hypnotize  Sally  as  a  co-consciousness,  by  the  suggestion 
that  both  were  being  etherized.  Accoixiingly,  Sally  not 
suspecting  the  ruse,  I  obtained  B  II,  and  then,  after  a 
suggestion  or  two,  I  went  through  the  form  of  shaking  a 
bottle  of  suppositious  ether,  pouring  it  on  some  cotton,  and 
holding  it  to  her  nose  in  a  professional  way.  At  the  same 
time  I  repeatedly  gave  the  suggestion,  "This  will  etherize 
Sally.  Sally  is  now  feeling  the  ether,"  etc.  At  first  there 
was   a   struggle,  then   her  muscles   became   relaxed,  her 


breathing  deep,  and  she  was  in  an  apparent  deep  narcosis. 
I  was  now  able  to  give  my  instructions,  which  were  re- 
ceived without  resistance  or  perversion ;  but  more  impor- 
tant was  the  fact  that  Sally  was  completely  beaten.  It 
was  a  moral  and  physical  victory.  Later,  when  Sally 
awoke,  she  admitted  defeat,  and  that  she  had  been  "  ether- 
ized "  and  "  squeezed ; "  that  is  to  say,  her  will  overcome. 
Her  word  of  honor  was  given  that  she  would  write  no  more 
letters,  would  not  interfere  with  B  IV,  would  not  hypno- 
tize or  tease  her,  —  in  short,  would  leave  her  alone.  In  ful- 
filment of  this  promise  the  next  day  a  letter  arrived  which 
laid  bare  the  inmost  thoughts  of  her  own  soul,  as  well  as 
those  of  Miss  Beauchamp  as  Sally  knew  them.  I  give 
only  an  abstract: 

["February  5,  1900."] 
[From  Sally.]  "...  You  really  are  mistaken  in  fancying 
that  I  am  jealous  of  any  one,  excepting  occasionally  of  Miss 
C.  I  hate  B  I,  not  because  of  Mrs.  X.'s  feeling  for  her,  but 
because  of  hers.  She  [B  I]  loves  her  so  much  more  devotedly 
and  reverently  than  I  ever  can  with  all  my  willing.  I  am  not 
jealous  of  her  —  how  could  I  be  ?  —  but  I  envy  her.  I  envy 
her.  She  is  infinitely  beyond  me  —  always — even  in  her  pain 
and  suffering.  .  .  ." 

[Signed  with  real  initials  of  Miss  Beauchamp.] 

"P.  S.  Please  believe  that  I  want  to  help  you,  and  don't 
be  cross  with  me  again.     I  don't  want  you  to  be  ever." 

The  following  shows  the  acuteness  of  Sally's  mind  in 
both  observing  and  interpreting :  — 

[February  8,  1900.  From  Sally.]  "If  Becky  has  really 
reformed,  why  don't  you  make  her  write  out  some  more  things  ? 
For  instance,  the  visions  are  presumably  common  to  both  her 
and  B  I.  That  is,  B  I  remembers  all  that  she  herself  has,  and 
all  that  B  IV  has.  B  IV  romembers  her  own,  and  we  all  be- 
lieve that  she  remembers  B  Ts  too.     But  if  she  does  remember 


B  I's,  why  is  it  that  she  insists  that  she  has  never  had  but  one 

vision  concerning  ?      Do  you  believe  it?  ...  Is  this  a 

sensible  note?" 

[True  initials  signed.] 
"  Dicky  says  what  I  got  Saturday  is  B  n." 

The  instability  of  B  IV  is  brought  out  by  the  varying 
moods  which  she  would  exhibit  from  day  to  day.  One 
day  she  would  appear  contrite  and  reasonable,  ready  to  co- 
operate and  to  do  her  part  to  bring  about  a  synthesis  of  the 
dissociated  mental  states,  and  thereby  effect  a  cure.  Then 
the  next  day  all  would  be  changed.  She  would  present 
herself  as  an  nngry,  belligerent,  unyielding,  and  uncompro- 
mising foe,  and  perhaps  after  having  thrown  into  the  fire 
the  records  of  herself  which  she  had  laboriously  written  as 
a  contribution  to  this  study. 

Sometimes  the  exciting  cause  of  this  change  of  mood 
would  be  found  to  be  an  emotion  of  anxiety  or  fear  which 
had  welled  up  into  her  consciousness  from  out  of  the  no- 
where, and  was  unconnected  with  any  specific  idea,  but 
which  could  be  traced  to  a  similar  emotion  in  the  mind  of 
B  I,  but  aroused  therein  by  some  specific  idea.  As  already 
pointed  out,i  though  in  B  I  and  B  IV  there  was  a  dissocia- 
tion of  experiences  and  of  memories,  the  associated  emotions 
were  common  to  both  personalities.  Emotion  is  one  of  the 
most  potent  factors  in  producing  disintegration ;  and  so  in 
this  case  an  emotion  of  a  depressing,  anxious,  or  startling 
kind  was  one  of  the  most  common  influences  in  producing 
instability  and  change  of  personality. 

Per  contra,  we  shall  see  when  we  come  to  study  the 
neurasthenic  state,  and  the  methods  by  which  the  Real 
Miss  Beauchamp  was  prevented  from  relapsing  into  her 
previous  disintegrated  states,  that  the  induction  of  an  ex- 
alting emotion  was  the  most  powerful  agent  in  maintaining 
a  state  of  integration  and  of  mental  and  bodily  stability. 

»  Page  298. 


The  induction  of  joy,  of  the  emotion  of  well-being,  of  the 
excitement  that  goes  with  present  pleasure  and  expecta- 
tion of  happiness  produced  a  stability  that  resisted  in  a 
remarkable  degree  the  disintegrating  influences  of  a  de- 
pressing environment.  No  better  illustration  could  be  had 
of  the  psychological  law:  "States  of  Pleasure  are  con- 
comitant with  an  increase  and  states  of  Pain  with  an 
abatement  of  some   or  all   of  the   vital  functions."  ^ 

The  striking  difference  between  the  psychology  of  emo- 
tions and  that  of  ideas  is  worth  noting.  B  IV  and  B  I 
had  amnesia  for  practically  all  the  ideas  and  sensory  ex- 
periences of  each  other,  but  the  emotions  awakened  by  such 
ideas  and  experiences  were  often  retained,  and  were  more 
or  less  common  to  both. 

A  perusal  of  the  extensive  records  which  were  kept 
would  make  clear  the  peculiar  instability  of  the  disin- 
tegrated personality,  the  constant  conflicts  which  in  con- 
sequence were  going  on,  and  the  difficulties  offered  in  the 
management  of  the  case. 

1  Bain's  Mental  Science 


DREAMS.      B    I    AND    B    IV    BECOME    THE    SAME    PERSON 

NOT  the  least  interesting  of  the  many  psychological 
phenomena  of  this  case  were  the  dreams.  The  case 
is  unique  in  one  respect.  Ordinarily,  our  knowledge  of 
the  contents  of  our  dreams  and  of  their  relation  to  our 
environment  is  limited  to  our  ability  to  recollect  them  upon 
awaking,  and  to  inferences  as  to  their  origin,  duration,  etc. 
But  in  the  case  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  one  of  the  family 
(Sally),  according  to  her  own  statement,  was  awake  a  large 
part  of  the  night,  while  the  main  personality  was  sleeping, 
and  therefore^  conscious  of  the  dreams  that  went  on, 
just  as  she  was  conscious  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts 
during  the  day.  She  therefore  knew  when  a  dream  began 
and  when  it  ended,  knew  it  in  its  entirety  and  often  was 
able  to  connect  it  with  its  origin,  external  or  internal. 

The  accounts  which  Sally  has  given  me  of  the  dream 
life  of  Miss  Beauchamp  contain,  I  think,  some  facts  of 
value  as  well  as  of  interest.  They  corroborate  the  theory 
that  long  and  elaborate  dreams  may  occupy  a  long  or  a 
short  time  between  their  beginning  and  ending.  If  what 
is  true  of  Miss  Beauchamp  is  true  of  the  rest  of  us,  what 
we  remember  as  our  dreams  is  but  a  small  fraction  of  our 
psychological  activity  when  asleep. 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand  what  you  mean  by  dreams," 
said  Sally.     "  Miss  Beauchamp's  mind  is  '  going,'  off  and 

1  Sally  insists  upon  this  as  a  fact,  claiming  indeed  never  to  sleep ;  at  any 
rate  Sally  remembered  dreams  and  other  nocturnal  experiences  of  which  the 
primary  personality  had  no  recollection  whatsoever. 

DREAMS  327 

on,  all  night  long.  She  imagines  then  all  sorts  of  things. 
Some  of  the  things  that  she  thinks  [that  is,  dreams]  she  re- 
members when  she  wakes  up,  and  some  she  doesn't.  If 
she  remembers  them,  you  call  them  dreams,  and  the  others 
you  don't.  I  don't  see  why  all  the  other  things  she  thinks 
are  not  just  as  much  dreams  as  what  she  remembers." 

As  to  the  amount  of  psychological  activity  that  goes  on 
during  sleep,  Sally  made  a  statement  which  is  of  some 
interest  from  a  psycho-physiological  point  of  view.  How 
far  the  evidence  of  her  testimony,  admitting  that  she 
correctly  describes  Miss  Beauchamp's  consciousness,  is 
applicable  to  normal  people  is  a  question  needing  further 
investigation.  It  is  probable  that  Miss  Beauchamp's  sleep- 
ing consciousness  exhibits  a  very  great  exaggeration  of 
what  goes  on  in  the  minds  of  ordinary  people  during  sleep ; 
but  even  so,  this  very  exaggeration,  if  corroborated  by  other 
observations,  serves  to  bring  out  into  relief  the  nature  of 
dream  processes  and  to  show  their  relation  to  the  personal 
consciousness.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  difficult  to  make 
Sally's  statement  intelligible  without  entering  in  great 
detail  into  the  question  of  secondary  subconscious  states 
and  thus  anticipating  what  has  been  reserved  as  a  problem 
for  investigation  in  Part  III.  By  secondary  subconscious 
states,  I  mean  not  Sally's  consciousness  but  those  subcon- 
scious states  which  are  supposed  to  form  a  part  of  the 
conscious  experiences  of  normal  people,  —  the  true  secon- 
dary consciousness.  These  include  the  sensory  experiences 
which  at  one  moment  we  are  conscious  of,  and  one  moment 
not ;  which  at  one  moment  are  synthesized  with  the  personal 
consciousness,  and  one  moment  are  left  out  of  the  synthesis, 
but  wliich  though  left  out  still  persist  as  secondary  percep- 
tions. The  extent  to  which  such  conscious  perceptions 
are  present  in  normal  people  I  pass  by  entirely  for  the  pres- 
ent, until  we  shall  be  able  to  discuss  the  Avhole  subject  with 
all  the  data  in  hand. 


In  order  to  explain  dreams  Sally  took  up  this  subject  of 
secondary  conscious  states  as  follows,  without,  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe,  having  previously  had  any  knowledge  of 
psychological  doctrines : 

"When  you  are  writing  out  anything,  when  you  are 
writing  as  you  are  now,  for  example  [takmg  notes],  you 
seem  to  think  that  the  only  thing  you  see  is  the  thing  you 
are  writing.  Well,  it  is  n't  so.  You  see  and  you  know  a 
great  many  more  things.  You  see  things  out  here  and 
out  there  [referring  to  peripheral  vision],  and  you  hear 
the  music  which  is  now  being  played  in  the  street,  and 
you  feel  lots  of  things  —  the  wind  blowing  through  the 
windows,  and  the  sounds  in  the  house,  and  all  sorts  of 
things  like  that.  Now  while  you  are  thinking  of  what  you 
are  writing  these  things  go  througli  your  mind  as  images 
or  sort  of  impressions.  Some  of  them  are  not  quite  clear, 
but  they  are  all  there.  They  are  not  connected  thoughts, 
but  each  makes  its  own  image  or  impression,  or  sensation 
as  the  case  may  be.  They  are  disconnected  from  one 
another.     All  this  is  going  on  all  the  time."  ^ 

Now  these  images  or  impressions,  of  which  Miss  B  is 
not  conscious,  make  up  what  Sally  calls  a  second  con- 
sciousness, which  she  has  always  called  CXI.  (This  is  the 
CII  to  which  Sally  refers  in  her  autobiography .2)  It 
should  be  here  stated  that  I  made  numerous  experimental 
observations  on  the  existence  of  such  secondary  conscious 
states  in  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  the  results  cor- 
roborated this  statement  so  far  as  it  goes. 

Sally,  after  further  elaborating  the  above  statement  with 
many  details  of  the  content  of  this  secondary  subconscious- 
ness, made  use  of  it  to  explain  dreams.  According  to  her  ob- 
servations, dreams  are  for  the  most  part  made  up  of  ideas 

*  In  writing  Sally's  explanation  I  supplied  the  technical  words,  but  always 
after  she  had  assented  to  their  use  as  expressing  her  meaning. 
9  Page  371. 

DREAMS  329 

belonging  to  this  secondary  consciousness,  although  memo- 
rial images  from  any  past  conscious  experiences  may  by 
association  be  woven  into  them.  What  is  going  on  in  the 
daytime  is  going  on  all  the  time  during  sleep  at  night. 
"  It  never  stops  the  whole  night  long.  The  sounds  from 
outside,  the  touch  of  the  bed-clothes,  the  draughts  of  air, 
make  sensory  images  or  impressions  in  the  same  way  as 
in  the  daytime."  These  weave  themselves  into  dreams, 
but  they  also  recall  memories  of  what  she  has  seen  and 
heard  and  read,  in  fact,  everything  that  she  has  ever  been 
conscious  of,  so  that  in  this  way  they  arouse  connected 
dreams.  Wlien  she  is  asleep,  she  hears  every  sound  just  as 
when  she  is  awake  and  is  listening.  ^  That  is,  the  secondary 
consciousness  hears.  It  feels  the  bed-clothes.  The  sensa- 
tions sometimes  give  her  horrible  dreams.  For  instance, 
they  sometimes  make  her  feel  as  if  she  were  smothering. 

^  This  would  explain  the  recognition  and  differentiation  by  a  sleeping  per- 
son of  sounds,  as  the  recognition  by  a  mother  of  the  cry  of  her  child,  or  by  a 
wife  of  the  sounds  of  her  husband's  footsteps.  The  so-called  premonitions 
through  dreams  would  iu  some  instances  at  least  find  an  explanation  iu  these 
facts.  If  the  secondary  consciousness  has  knowledge  not  possessed  by  the 
primary  self,  and  if  dreaming  is  done  mainly  by  the  secondary  consciousness, 
then  plainly  a  dream  would  convey  information  which  would  seem  supernor- 
mal to  tiie  primary  self.  Suppose  the  second  consciousness  overheard  a  re- 
mark, or  read  in  the  newspapers  by  peripheral  vision  the  news  of  some  one's 
illness  whicli  was  unknown  to  the  primary  self,  then  this  fact  coming  out  in 
a  dream  would  seem  miraculous.  Indeed,  Sally  positively  asserts  that  some- 
times the  images  of  words  in  the  newspaper,  for  example,  are  seen  by  Miss 
Beauchamp  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  while  she  is  reading  with  cen- 
tral vision,  and  afterwards  these  peripheral  images,  of  which  she  personally 
is  not  conscious,  may  come  out  in  dreams.  The  peripheral  vision,  how- 
ever, is  limited  and  consists  of  a  mere  image  of  the  printed  words  without 
any  "meaning"  (associated  ideas?)  being  attached  to  it.  Later  the  meaning 
becomes  attached.  By  this,  perhaps,  is  meant  that  in  dreams  the  symbol 
recalls  the  ideas  which  are  symbolized  by  the  word.  For  herself,  too,  Sally 
claims,  that  while  B  I  is  concentrating  her  mind  on  central  vision,  she, 
Sally,  need  not  pay  attention  to  that,  but  cau  concentrate  her  own  mind  on 
peripheral  vision  and  recognize  things  in  the  periphery.  In  test  observations 
Sally  has  frequently  described  to  me  objects  seen  out  of  the  corners  of  the 
eyes  (peripheral  vision),  although  BI  or  B  IV  was  entirely  oblivious  of 
having  seen  them. 


and  then  that  brings  up  things  she  has  read,  that  is,  bits 
of  different  things. 

Some  of  these  ideas  she  remembers  after  waking,  and 
then  calls  them  dreams.  (Hence  it  is  that  Sally  thinks  it 
most  illogical  "  to  call  dreaming  only  what  one  remembers, 
because  the  same  thing  is  going  on  all  the  time.  If  you 
call  one  thing  dreams  why  should  n't  you  call  the  other 
dreams  ?  "  To  Sally,  who  remembered  the  whole  di-eam, 
remembering  a  part  of  it  was  an  inconsequential  fact.) 

Sally's  statement,  that  she  never  slept,  was  difficult  to 
prove  or  disprove,  though  the  fact  is  unlikely,  and  it  is 
probable  that  she  is  unaware  of  the  lapse  of  time  during 
which  she  sleeps.  The  conditions  did  not  permit  nocturnal 
observation,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  Sally  herself  be- 
lieved her  claim.  More  important  is  the  question  whether 
Sally  is  awake  at  all  while  the  principal  personalities  slept. 
There  is  reason  to  believe  that  she  was,  or  that  some  part 
of  her  was,  a  portion  of  the  time  at  least.  An  analogous 
phenomenon  which  I  personally  observed  has  a  bearing  on 
the  question :  it  was  the  persistence  of  Sally  while  B  IV 
was  so  deeply  etherized  that  she  was  unable  to  speak  or 
move  and  was  apparently  unconscious.  A  good  large 
quantity  of  ether  was  used.  During  this  stage  of  etheri- 
zation Sally  gave  prearranged  signals,  and  afterwards 
remembered  some  nursery  rhjones  which  I  recited  to  her  as 
a  test  of  consciousness,  it  having  been  previously  agreed 
that  she  was  to  repeat  after  coming  out  of  the  ether  what 
I  had  said  (see  reference  to  "  Hickory,  dickory,  dock," 
etc.,  in  letter,  Appendix  O).  On  carrying  the  etherization 
still  deeper  the  signals  ceased.  A  possible  fallacy  in  such 
experiments  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  distinguishing  between 
unconsciousness  from  ether,  and  hypnotic  sleep,  the  latter 
as  the  effect  of  suggestion. 

The  phenomenon  of  a  dissociated  consciousness,  con- 
tinuing in  activity  while  the  primary  consciousness  sleeps, 

DREAMS  331 

has  been  noted  before.  In  the  case  of  Anna  Winsor,  re- 
ported by  Dr.  Ira  Barrows,  it  was  observed  that  she  was 
asleep  while  the  secondary  consciousness,  nicknamed  "  Old 
Stump,"  was  awake  and  performed  many  of  its  most  strik- 
ing feats.  "  Old  Stump "  was  believed  never  to  sleep. 
During  sleep  the  hand,  taken  possession  of  by  this  dis- 
sociated state,  not  only  wrote  but  conversed  by  signs, 
watched  over  the  sleeper,  summoned  the  nurse  by  rapping 
on  the  bedstead,  and  showed  every  sign  of  independent 

If  it  were  safe  to  generalize  from  the  evidence  of  Sally 
in  a  particular  instance  like  this,  which,  of  course,  is  not  the 
case,  we  should  have  to  conclude  that  our  minds  must  be 
in  more  or  less  constant  activity  during  sleep  ;  and  that  we 
are  ignorant  of  the  fact  because  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
ideation  there  is  amnesia  on  awaking.  We  recollect  but 
a  small  part  as  our  dreams.  In  this  respect,  the  condi- 
tions are  comparable  to  what  occurs  during  and  after  hyp- 
nosis, trances,  somnambulistic  states,  etc.  Though  those 
states  are  characterized  by  continuous  mental  activity,  we 
fail  to  remember  our  thoughts  afterward.  It  is  improb- 
able that  in  a  normal  person  the  ideation  during  sleep  is 
as  extensive  as  is  the  case  with  Miss  Beauchamp,  and 
hysterics  generally ;  but  it  is  quite  likely  that  the  flora  of 
our  dreams  is  much  richer  than  we  have  any  idea  of. 

Sally's  statement  regarding  the  time  of  origin  and  per- 
sistence of  some  dreams  corroborates  a  generally  accepted 
theory  of  psychology,  namely,  that  very  long  dreams  may 
occur  at  the  moment  only  of  waking  up,  and  yet  seem  to 
the  dreamer  to  have  occurred  during  sleep.  But,  accord- 
ing to  this  testimony,  it  is  not  solely  at  such  moments  that 
these  dreams  occur :  B  I  and  B  IV,  according  to  Sally,  had 
two  different  kinds  of  dreams ;  those  that  occurred  during 
sleep,  and  those  that  occurred  only  at  the  moment  of  wak- 
ing up,  and  either  might  be  very  long  or  short  in  content. 


First,  of  the  dreams  occurring  during  sleep,  some,  though 

very  long  in  content,  might  occupy  a  very  brief  moment  of 

time.     She  had,  indeed,  known  very  long  dreams  to  occur 

p  even  while  the  clock  was  striking.^     On  the  contrary,  a 

^  dream  very  short  in  content  might  occupy  a  long  period  of 

^^  Second,  at  the  moment  of  waking  up,  a  very  long  dream 

might  occur,  which   might  give  the  impression  to  Miss 
j  Beauchamp  that  she  had  had  a  dream  during  sleep. 

^  It  sometimes  happens  that  Miss  Beauchamp  wakes  up 

^  frequently  during  the  night,  and  at  each  moment  of  wak- 

rS  ing  has  a  long  dream  which  is  continuous  in  content 
r  ^  with  the  dream  that  she  had  at  the  moment  of  waking 
y  from  the  previous  period  of  sleep.     These  are  apt  to  be 

>• '         nightmares.     Miss   Beauchamp   erroneously  classes   these 
continuous  but  successive  dreams  with  those  which  occur 
f?  during  the  sleeping  period. 

^  As  to  the  origin  of  dreams,  one  curious  and  interesting 

p  statement  which   Sally  makes   is   that   Miss   Beauchamp 

r"  sometimes  has  dreams  about  what  Sally  is  thinking  of  at 

^  the  moment  —  Miss  Beauchamp  being,  of  course,  asleep 

^-  at  the   time  —  just  as   occasionally  while   awake   Sally's 

*  ""■  thought  comes  into  her  mind.  On  such  occasions  Miss 
Beauchamp  is  surprised  at  having  some  irrelevant  or  in- 
congruous thought  thrust  without  apparent  reason  into 
her  logical  processes. 

This  interaction  of  the  different  consciousnesses  is  not 
surprising,  but  is  what  one  would  expect.  The  surprising 
thing  is  that  this  interaction  occurs  so  rarely.  The  mem- 
ory flashes  coming  from  B  I's  mental  life  into  that  of  B  IV, 
or  vice  versa  have  already  been  discussed;  this  thrusting 


1  Note  Sally's  recognition  of  the  clock's  striking  while  Miss  Beauchamp  is 
dreaming.  As  Sally  had  no  knowledge  of  time,  the  only  way  of  measuring 
her  time  periods  is  by  the  time  occupied  by  some  event,  such  as  the  striking 
of  the  clock,  or  the  act  of  waking  np. 

DREAMS  333 

of  Sally's  thoughts  into  B  I's  consciousness  (without  pre- 
vious "  mind-fixing  ")  is  perhaps  of  the  same  order. 

To  return  to  the  question  whether  Sally  persists  as 
a  waking  consciousness  during  the  periods  of  Miss 
Beauchamp's  sleep;  it  was  difficult  to  prove  or  dis- 
prove this.  There  is  no  inherent  impossibility  in  the 
claim.  For  after  all,  dreams  are  dissociated  conscious 
states ;  they  represent  a  persisting  consciousness,  persist- 
ing during  the  sleep  of  the  remainder  of  the  pereonal 
consciousness.  Now  dreams  would  differ  from  Sally's 
consciousness  only  in  the  greater  organization  or  system- 
atization  of  the  latter's  conscious  states.  If  one  group  can 
persist  in  activity,  there  is  no  psychological  impossibility 
in  the  other's  enjoying  a  similar  activity.  In  Sally's  case 
perhaps  the  answer  depends  upon  the  extent  of  the  field 
of  subconsciousness  which  persists  during  sleep,  and 
whether  this  field  is  sufficiently  large  to  be  entitled  to 
be  regarded  as  Sally.  All  the  motor  centres  surely  sleep, 
for  Sally  cannot  move.  Is  what  remains,  if  any,  simply  a 
limited  group  of  subconscious  states,  or  a  personal  self? 
This  question  must  for  the  present  remain  unanswered. 

However,  wishing  to  have  all  the  evidence  that  might 
be  obtained  from  her  own  testimony,  I  got  her  at  a  later 
period  to  write  out  an  account  of  her  own  thoughts  and 
perceptions,  and  Miss  Beauchamp's  dreams,  during  sevenil 
nights  while  Miss  Beauchamp  slept.  They  are  curiously 
interesting,  and  warrant,  I  think,  the  recoids  of  two  nights 
being  given  here.  They  are  interpolated  with  a  running 
fire  of  Sally's  comments  and  philosophy  and  answers  to 
B  IV's  criticisms.  Sally  used  to  write  a  pai-agraph  or 
two  at  a  time.  Then  B  IV  coming  would  read  and  com- 
ment aloud  on  Sally's  production.  Sally  then  would  reply 
to  the  criticism,  as  appears  in  the  text,  interpolating  her  re- 
ply in  the  midst  of  her  account.     Each  account  is  given  just 


as  she  wrote  it.  Those  comments  which  form  "  asides  "  are 
printed  between  brackets  in  italics.  C.  (Christine)  is  used 
by  Sally  generally  to  designate  a  self  which  was  a  compos- 
ite of  B  I  and  B  IV,  and  which  at  this  later  period  had 
been  experimentally  created.  This  C.  had  the  memories  of 
both  I  and  IV.  Sometimes,  however,  Sally  speaks  of  B  I 
as  C.  The  distinction  is  not  always  clear,  for  when  Sally 
spoke  of  Miss  Beauchamp  in  connection  with  events  prior 
to  the  hospital  catastrophe  of  1893  she  always  called  her 
C.  but  she  rarely  gave  the  initial  or  name  to  B  IV.  In 
other  words,  C,  in  Sally's  mind,  was  more  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp. 

None  of  the  other  personalities  had  any  remembrance  of 
the  events  described  by  Sally  as  occurring  while  they  slept. 

April  10th,  1902.  "  Last  night,  B  IV,  after  undressing  and 
bathing,  sat  gazing  into  space  for  a  long  time.  Then  she  got 
up  and  said,  '  Good-night,  Sally  dear,  you  're  anotlier  janitor,* 
I'm  afraid,'  and  went  to  bed.  Before  she  slept  [B]  I  came. 
[B]  I  wondered  what  time  it  was  —  if  she  had  seen  you  —  if 
Mrs.  Y.'s  book  had  been  returned — if  I  had  been  rude  —  if 
I  had  scrubbed  her  properly  before  getting  into  bed  —  why  her 
photograph  of  Mrs.  X.  had  disappeared,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  It 
would  take  too  long  to  write  it  all.  She  got  up,  saw  that  it 
was  after  eleven,  but  began  bathing,  nevertheless,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it  changed  to  [B]  IV,  who  of  course  accused  me  at 
once  of  teasing  her  and  went  back  to  bed  again,  awfully  cross. 
She  fell  asleep  almost  immediately  this  time  and  slept  for 
hours.  Part  of  the  time  she  was  very  restless,  —  does  that 
matter?  —  dreaming  of  London,  running  about  there,  you 
know.  What  you  call  dreaming,  or  at  least  what  C.  calls 
dreaming,  is  very  curious.  I  don't  see  why  you  leave  out  so 
much  if  it 's  one  thing,  or  why  you  put  in  so  much  if  it 's 
another.     During  this  first  sleep  of  C.'s  there  were  students 

1  Jeanneton,  a  character  in  an  old  French  book.  Thi.s  name,  understood 
by  Sally  as  janitor,  hurt  her  feelings.  "  I  am  not  a  janitor,"  she  protested. 
"  A  janitor  is  a  person  who  makes  the  furnace  fire  and  does  that  kind  of 

DREAMS  335 

going  home,  and  trains  and  carriages  passing,  and  once  —  this 
is  really  true  —  a  man,  walking  very  unsteadily,  stopped  be- 
neath the  window,  and  called,  '  Molly,  Molly.'  No  one  an- 
swered for  a  minute,  and  he  began  to  cry  —  really  —  and 
mumble.  Then  he  turned  to  go  back,  but  Molly  had  heard 
him  and  came  running.  She  had  clicky  heels,  and  a  horrid 
voice  —  not  like  his  —  and  there  was  another  man  with  her, 
following  behind.  Molly  said,  '  0  George,  was  n't  I  good!  I 
knew  you  way  off  there  ! '  Then  George  mumbled  some  more, 
and  she  kissed  him  terribly,  and  they  all  three  went  off  to- 
gether. C.  didn't  wake  up  —  wouldn't  wake  up — though  I 
wanted  awfully  to  see  them  and  tried  to  come." 

April  10th,  1902.  [Letter  to  M.  P.]  "  You  must  answer 
all  my  questions,  please,  no  matter  where  you  find  them. 
B  IV  did  call  me  another  janitor,  although  she  says  now  she 
did  n't,  and  pretends  to  be  terribly  amused  over  it.  I  think 
/  ought  to  be  amused  instead  of  IV,  for  it  was  an  extremely 
silly  thing  for  her  to  say —  utterly  without  meaning." 

Another  night:  "  Last  night  B  IV  was  very  much  disturbed 
over  something,  and  kept  walking  up  and  down  for  a  long  time 
after  she  was  all  ready  for  bed.  I  did  not  know  at  the  time  what 
was  troubling  her,  but  I  got  it  afterward,  as  you  will  see.  The 
first  time  she  stayed  in  bed  only  a  few  minutes,  getting  up  then 
to  take  another  sponge  bath  and  tie  her  head  up  with  haraamelis 
cloths.  I  came  while  she  was  doing  this,  but  I  did  n't  finish  it 
for  her  because  it  would  n't  have  been  any  use  if  I  had ;  she 
always  does  things  over  after  [B]  I  and  me.  I  watcbed  the 
people  on  the  street  instead,  and  wished  I  was  out  with  them. 
It  is  so  strange  that  other  people  are  always  much  more  inter- 
esting than  C.  Perhaps  they  are  n't  if  you  come  to  really  truly 
know  them,  as  I  know  her.  Because  they  think  she  is  —  [IV 
says  I  have  omitted  some  things  here,  —  that  I  hid  the  hamamelis 
bottle  and  tore  her  goivn.  I  did  n't.  I  put  the  bottle  in  the  draioer 
and  covered  it  up  so  that  it  should  n't  get  spilled,  and  the  goivn  tore 
itself  when  I  was  trying  to  curl  up  by  the  rvindotv]  —  awfully  in- 
teresting. B  I  came  while  I  was  watching  and  meditating,  and 
felt  her  head  to  see  if  it  ached,  and  it  did  n't  /    IV  was  only 


pretending  again.^  [IV  says  this  is  silly  ;  that  one  does  n't  have 
to  feel  one's  head  to  find  whether  it  aches  or  not.  I  didn't  mean 
just  that.  You  see  when  C^  came  I  was  sitting  on  her  gown  by 
the  window,  and  the  hamamelis  cloths  were  tied  on  her  arm  so 
that  they  should  n't  get  lost,  and  she  thought  at  once  that  she  must 
have  had  a  headache,  or  some  other  sort  of  an  ache,  and  she  felt 
herself  to  see.  And  there  was  nothing,  so  she  unfastened  the 
bandages,  ^mt  on  her  gown,  and  went  to  bed  —  as  I  wrote  before.] 
[B]  I  was  tired  ttiough,  and  after  praying,  '  Keep  him,  dear  God, 
for  Christ's  sake  —  always  —  and  forgive  me ! '  a  very  queer 
prayer,  for  it  did  n't  begin  or  end  as  it  should,  and  it  is  n't  in 
the  prayer-l)ook,  she  kissed  F.  L.'s  picture  and  went  to  bed.^ 
But  not  to  sleep.  IV  came  again,  scolding,  '  O  my  head,  my 
head  !  Sally,  you  're  a  little  beast.  Why  can't  you  let  things 
alone !  O  my  head,  my  head !  What  in  the  world  did  you  put 
that  light  out  for?  You  knew  I  had  n't  finished.  ^IV  says  you 
don't  want  any  prayers  in  an  account  like  this,  and  that  if  I 
think  it  absolutely  necessary  for  C.'s  reputation  to  /)?<i  one  in 
I'd  better  substitute  one  from  the  prayer-hook.  But  C.  did  n't 
say  one  from  the  prayer-book.  She  said  exactly  what  I  hare 
written,  and  it  was  a  prayer,  for  it  was  said  on  her  knees 
and  in  jtist  the  same  way  as  at  church.  Of  course  if  you 
don't  ivant  it  in  I  can  drop  it  easily  enough.  Some  nights  she 
says  nicer  ones,  like  other  j^^ople.]  'Where's  the  bottle?  Jf 
I  step  on  it  I  shall  scream.  You  little,  little  beast ! '  Then  she 
scrambled  out,  nursing  her  head  (which  did  n't  ache,  you  know), 
lighted  the  gas,  sponged  herself  all  over  for  the  third  time,  tied 
the  hamamelis  cloths  on,  and  went  to  bed.  This  time  she  slept, 
but  very  restlessly.  I  think  she  was  not  quiet  more  —  [IV  says 
that  I  know  nothing  about  whether  her  head  ached  or  not,  and 
that  I've  carefully  omitted  all  mention  of  her  long  search  for  the 
bottle,  and  also  of  the  difficulty  her  torn  gown  caused  her.  Well, 
•perhaps  I  don't  know,  but  at  any  rate  when  C*  herself  came  and 

1  That  is,  IV  had  tied  np  her  head  to  fool  Sally. 

2  That  is,  B  I. 

8  IV  never  says  any  prayers,  prayer-book  ones  or  any  others.  (Footnote 
by  Sally.) 

*  Tlie  composite  self,  B  I  +  B  IV,  above  referred  to,  who  had  the  mem- 
ories of  both  B  I  and  B  IV. 

DREAMS  337 

remembered  all  about  IV  she  remembered  it  that  way^  and  I 
know  C.'s  thoughts.  And  as  for  the  bottle  and  her  gown,  I 
did  n't  mention  them  because  I  did  nH  consider  them  important 
enough.  I  can  of  course  tell  how  IV  turned  everything  upside 
down  in  the  room  in  her  search,  and  how  she  left  things  upside 
down  for  O.  the  next  morning  to  put  back.  And  I  can  tell  too 
about  how  cross  she  got  because  in  putting  on  her  gown  after  her 
bath  her  arm  got  caught  in  the  tear.  She  pulled  it  off  furiously, 
threw  it  on  the  floor,  and  got  into  bed  luithout  it.  I  hope  IV  will 
find  this  quite  clear  noio]  —  than  a  minute,  and  that  in  the  very 
beginning,  while  she  was  asleep.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
noise  in  the  street,  people  passing,  and  carriages,  with  occa- 
sionally an  automobile,  but  it  was  not  that  which  made  her  rest- 
less. It  was  the  memory  of  her  conversation  with  N.  in  the 
afternoon.  She  dreamed  that  N.  was  a  butterfly,  she  [IV]  one 
wing  —  \_IV  says  this  is  all  nonsense  —  that  there  is  n't  a  sirigle 
thing  to  prove  that  the  afternoon's  conversation  had  disturbed  her, 
and  that  the  dream  is  probably  pure  invention.  It  is  n't  non- 
sense, and  although  it  would  take  a  lot  of  writing  to  prove  what 
I  have  said,  yet  it  can  be  done,  and  later  shall  be.  As  for  the 
dream,  what  would  be  the  use  of  my  inventing  things  when  her 
thoughts  do  it  for  me?  Besides,  tvhether  IV  remembers  this 
dream  or  not,  C.  does,  and  would  recognize  it  even  in  this 
cut-short  form.  All  the  dreams  I  may  as  well  say  are  very 
briefly  sketched  in  this  account.  It  would  take  too  long  to  write 
them  out  fully  —  as  they  really  were  —  and.  I  cannot  see  that  it 
would  be  of  any  use']  —  a  queer  composite  growth  the  other 
wing.  She  [IV,  as  the  wing]  was  diseased,  ought  to  be  cut  off 
—  yet  the  cutting  off  would  cripple  N.  So  she  struggled  and 
kicked  —  literally  —  while  it  tried  to  fly,  and  the  other  wing 
kept  changing  in  color  and  composition. 

"  She  dreamed  of  being  pursued  by  a  huge  cat,  much  larger 
than  herself,  which  finally  sprang  upon  her  and  tore  open  her 
breast.  [/F  says,  '  Interesting,  if  true,'  and  it  was  interesting 
because  you  remember  she  had  left  her  gown  in  a  little  heap  on  the 
floor,  and  the  bandages  had  come  off,  and  her  hair,  teas  flying. 
And  it  is  true,  because  I  was  there  and  not  sleeping  and  knew 
all  about  it.  I  suppose  she  will  be  cross  again  now,  but  I  can't 
help  it.     When  she  says  some  things  like,  '  Really,  Sally  dear, 



how  very  interesting  /  How  delightful !  How  sweet  of  you  !  ' 
—  things  that  sound  nice  if  you  repeat  them,  but  which  you  know 
are  horrid  —  it  makes  me  frantic.  ] 

"  She  dreamed  of  being  lost  in  London  —  surrounded  by  a  mob 
of  the  dreadful  women  there,  who  held  her  and  forced  her  to 
listen  to  their  vile  talk. 

"  Then  she  dreamed  of  being  dead,  and  in  a  coffin  lined  with 
hands  which  tried  to  clutch  at  her.  Suddenly  they  all  doubled 
up  aud  seemed  to  be  watching.  C.  wondered,  but  was  so  tired 
struggling  to  get  away  from  them — \_IV  says  my  notions  of 
anatomy  are  mixed,  or  else  my  English  is,  and  that  what  J  have 
written  gives  the  impression  that  the  hands  ivere  watching.  That 
is  exactly  the  impression  I  want  to  give.  They  were  watching, 
in  C.'s  dream.  And  IV  knows  that  in  dreams  there  are  often 
much  more  curious  things  than  that.  I  'm  not  making  this  up  or 
writing  for  fun'\  —  that  she  leaned  back,  in  her  dream,  on  her 
brain,  which  was  her  pillow,  to  rest  a  minute.  But  the  pillow 
moved  —  long  freably  worms  wriggled  out  of  it,  covering  her 
from  head  to  foot,  and  she  screamed  with  terror.  When  she 
tried  to  escape  the  worms,  the  hands  clutched  her.  When  she 
would  avoid  the  hands,  the  worms  went  through  and  through 
her.  Finally  she  awoke  as  C,  whole,  shuddering  and  cold, 
though  —  [^freably '  is  n't  a  word,  IV  says.  That  does  n't  mat- 
ter, if  I  choose  to  use  it.  When  I  say  that  she  screamed  with 
terror  1  mean  that  she  dreamed  she  did.  She  really  only  made 
funny  little  gasping  noises  that  one  could  hardly  hear.  Some- 
times she  does  scream,  and  that  makes  her  wake  up,  terribly 
frightened]  —  simply  dripping  with  perspiration.  For  a  long 
time  she  could  not  pull  herself  together,  but  when  she  did  she 
remembered  everything,  just  as  if  she  had  been  properly  hyp- 
notized in  the  afternoon.  That  is,  she  remembered  all  she  had 
done  and  said  and  thought  as  [B]  I  and  IV ;  she  did  not  re- 
member anything  about  me  because  that  is  not  possible.  I  am 
different,  and  all  that  I  do  concerns  just  me.  [^IV  says  it  is  ab- 
surd for  me  to  make  such  a  statement  as  this  —  that  the  facts  do 
not  bear  me  out,  and  consequently  it  would  be  better  to  omit  this 
part  altogether ;  that  I  am  only  a  face  [phase],  and  a  passing 
one.  She  added  something  more  to  this  criticism  yesterday,  but 
as  I  don't  understand  what  she  means  I  'm  going  to  ignore  it. 

DREAMS  339 

"  Dr.  Prince  says  she  means  '•phase '  of  her  disease.  It  is 
true  that  two  or  three  times  she  has  in  some  siieaky  way  gotten 
hold  of  things  that  I've  done  and  said,  but  never  very  correctly, 
and  [B\  I  never  has  done  it  at  all.  Sometime  I  'm  going  to  write 
out  all  that  I  think  about  this.  Because,  even  if  she  were  able  to 
get  a  great  deal,  and  get  it  exactly  true,  it  woxdd  n't  follow  that  I 
am  a  part  of  her.  Why,  I  get  things  belonging  to  [^]  /  and  IV 
when  both  are  dead,  that  is,  things  they  knoiv,  like  algebra  ;  of 
course  I  know  everything  they  do.  It  is  hard,  and  I  don't  like 
to  do  it  much,  for  it  makes  me  all  squeezed.  Dr.  Hodgson  said 
I  could  n't  do  it,  so  I  did  it.  As  I  am  always  alive,  it  ought  to 
he  loads  easier  for  IV  to  get  things  from  me.  But  she  must  get 
them  in  the  same  way  that  she  would  from  J.  or  S.  or  X,  Y,  Z, 
and  I  think  I  know  how  to  do  that,  although  it  will  be  very  hard  to 
tell  how.']  It  was  through  her  [C]  remembering  when  she  awoke 
that  I  learned  what  had  been  troubling  B  IV  in  the  evening, 
and  why  she  was  restless  and  pretended  things.  It  was  be- 
cause she  does  n't  want  to  be  a  woman,  because  women  are  self- 
ish and  lay  too  much  emphasis  upon  small  things,  and  keep 
men  from  accomplishing  their  work  in  life —  \^This  is  weak  all 
through,  IV  says.  She  thinks  that  as  I  did  not  know  at  the  time 
what  ivas  troubling  her  and  as  I  have  said  that  I  did  not,  all  this 
rigmarole  (I  don't  know  how  to  spell  it,  but  that  is  ivhat  she  said) 
should  be  excluded.  She  says  her  [C.'s]  memory  has  been  shown 
to  be  inaccurate  repeatedly.  Of  course  if  she  insists  upon  it,  this 
can  be  cut  out.  I  did  not  know  at  the  time  what  was  troubling  her, 
and  C.'s  put-together-memory  has  been  rather  jumbly  sometimes, 
hut  not  lately  ;  that  is,  she  [C]  could  not  reconcile  the  memories 
and  feelings  of[B]  land  IV.  They  were  contradictory.  Lately 
it  has  been  all  right  for  [B]  I,  and  I  think  if  IV  were  to  stick  to 
the  truth,  as  she  tells  me  to  do,  she  ivould  confess  that  it  was  her 
conscience  and  not  her  head  that  gave  her  so  much  pain  that 
night.  IV  really  misses  the  record  I  used  to  keep  of  Iter  sins.] 
And  because  she  had  helped  X,  for  whom  she  did  not  care,  and 
could  not  help  Y,  whom  she  loved  very  much.  And  because  Z 
was  selfish,  and  inconsiderate,  and  exacting,  making  life  very 
hard  for  Y.  And  because  she  could  never  be  cured,  .  .  .  [IV 
says  that  X,  Y,  Z  are  delightfully  mysterious,  and  that  she 
wonders   how   I  came  to  know  them.     They  are  n't  mysterious 


the  least  hit.  Of  course,  you  Jcnow,  those  are  n't  their  real 
names.  I  just  put  them  that  way  to  make  it  more  interest- 
ing, and  because  you  must  n't  ever  give  names  when  you  say 
things  about  j^^ople  —  it  is  n't  a  yiice  thing  to  do  —  but  if  IV 
really  truly  wants  to  know  who  they  are,  I'll  tell  her.]  It  was 
twenty  minutes  after  two  when  C.  looked  at  her  watch,  but 
for  all  this  part  of  the  night  I  have  chosen  to  record  as  dreams 
only  those  thoughts  which  hung  together.  The  others,  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out,  are  not  considered  dreams.  I  do  not 
know  what  you  do  call  them.  When  I  write  my  willing  book  I 
will  try  to  find  some  name  for  them.  [IV  says  to  please  be  exact 
here,  and  state  just  how  many  trains  of  thought,  sets  of  dreams, 
etc.,  were  going  on  at  once.  That  is  n't  necessary  ;  it  is  all  going 
into  my  willing  book.  Besides,  there  are  n't  '  sets '  of  dreams, 
and  '  trains '  of  thought,  at  night,  for  '  sets  '  means  two  or  three, 
and  '  train '  means  together,  and  the  night  is  n't  like  that  if  C. 
is  sleeping  —  of  course  if  she  is  aivake  it  is  different.] 

"  As  for  myself,  during  this  time  I  thought  of  heaps  of  things, 
but  none  of  them  were  dream  thoughts,  for  I  never  had  a  dream. 
Sometimes,  when  Dr.  Prince  makes  me  keep  my  eyes  shut,  and 
says  that  I  can't  open  them,  it  makes  me  feel  very  queer,  for  I 
know  I  can,  only  that  he  is  willing  harder.  [IV  says  this  is  very 
i-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g  about  Dr.  Prince,  but  7've  crossed  it  all  out  for 
the  present.  I  don't  wish  to  talk  about  it,  becaxise  when  you  tell 
things  some  people  always  remember  them  —  and  then  they  make 
you  do  things  so  that  you  wish  you  had  n't  told,  but  yoxi  never  can 
go  back  again  to  the  time  when  they  did  n't  knoio.  I  learned  this 
myself  since  I  got  my  eyes  opened.  Of  course  there  are  some 
who  forget,  and  telling  them  about  things  does  n't  matter,  but  Dr. 
Prince  is  n't  like  that.]  As  when  people  tell  you  to  do  things  you 
do  not  wish  to  do  you  look  .  .  .  (Unfinished.) 

"  I  thought  mostly  of  the  things  I  would  like  to  do  if  I  could. 
When  some  men  who  were  quarrelling  passed,  I  thought  of  them 
for  a  long  while,  and  envied  them,  for  it  was  very  late  —  [This 
would  be  much  more  interesting,  IV  says,  if  I  would  write  out  my 
thoughts,  as  I  have  attempted  to  icrite  hers,  and  state  whether  it 
was  the  idea  of  a  scrimmage  which  filled  me  with  envy.  No,  it 
was  n't.  I  do  not  like  scrimmages.  But  I  envied  the  men  their 
freedom,  and  their  clothes,  and  their  ability  to  do  as  they  wished. 

DREAMS  341 

That  was  all.  As  for  my  thoughts  .  .  .  (Unfinished)]  —  and  they 
had  the  street  to  themselves.  And  when  C.  was  dreaming  about 
the  coffin  I  wondered  if  there  could  be,  as  Dr.  H.  said,  some 
part,  some  corner  of  her  mind  which  I  did  not  know  about,  for 
the  dream  had  in  it  something  of  what  I  had  thought  and  re- 
membered while  X  was  explaining  about  the  Egyptian  mummy 
images  in  the  afternoon.  It  is  very  curious,  and  two  or  three 
times  before  I  have  been  troubled  by  it.  C.  got  up  then  and 
read  until  about  four  o'clock,  because  she  was  almost  afraid  to 
go  to  sleep  again,  but  she  did  go,  and  slept  until  after  six.  She 
dreamed  a  great  deal,  but  her  dreaming  was  of  a  different  kind 
—  not  distressing.  She  dreamed  of  being  at  Sorrento  with  J., 
and   of  living   there  day   after   day,  waiting   for   some   one, 

and  the  some  one  proved  to  be ,  who  had  been  exiled  for 

some  reason,  and  had  come  there  to  live  because  he  loved  J. 
and  her.  And  she  dreamed  of  living  at  home,  and  of  watching 
for  the  sunrise  on  her  knees  in  the  empty  room  there  —  as  she 
used  to  do — but  not  wearily,  exultantly."  .  .  .  [For  Sally's 
accounts  of  other  nights,  see  Appendix  K.] 

[Received  April  24  from  Sally.]  "  I  must  talk  to  you. 
Don't  you  want  six  nights  written  out  now?  Nice  ones,  with 
dreams  and  all  ?  If  C.  is  n't  ill  she  can't  stay  in  bed  and 
neglect  everything  —  can  she  ?  /  must  talk  to  you,  but  Friday 
will  do.  I  'm  out  of  bed  now,  and  it 's  not  so  bad.  C.'s  really 
herself  now  —  her  old  self  —  although  she  has  things  rather 
amazingly  twisted.  Perhaps  they  '11  come  straight  later.  Don't 
make  me  help  her,  please.  I  'm  not  sure  she  's  any  better 
than  [B]  I." 

The  main  point  of  interest  at  present  about  these  dreams 
is  whether  they  throw  any  light  on  the  problem  of  multiple 
pei-sonality,  and,  more  particularly,  on  the  question  of  the 
relations  of  B  I  and  B  IV  to  the  real  self. 

Now  B  I  and  B  IV,  of  course,  used  to  sleep,  and  to 
sleep  meant,  as  Hamlet  said,  to  dream.  Did  each  have 
her  own  individual  dream,  of  which  the  other  had  no 
memory,  or  were  all  dreams  common  to  both  ?     In  the 


former  case  it  meant  that  the  division  of  consciousness 
and  corresponding  cerebral  disintegration  persisted  during 
sleep ;  in  the  latter  case,  that  during  sleep  the  two  person- 
alities reverted  to  a  common  consciousness.  These  latter 
findings,  too,  would  be  in  harmony  with  the  hypothesis 
that  neither  B  I  nor  B  IV  was  the  real  self. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  there  was  only  one  set  of  dreams 
and  that  was  remembered  by  only  one  personality,  say  B 
IV,  the  implication  would  be  that  this  personality  was 
approximately  the  real  self,  and  that  the  other  was  only  a 
somnambulistic  condition. 

Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  as  a  result  of  the  inquiry  into 
dreams,  it  transpired  that  however  distinct  and  separate 
was  the  ideation  of  B  I  and  B  IV  during  the  waking 
state,  during  sleep  these  personalities  reverted  to  a  common 
consciousness  and  became  one  and  the  same.  That  is  to 
say,  the  dreams  were  common  to  both :  each,  B  I  and  B  IV, 
had  the  same  dreams,  and  each  remembered  them  afterward 
as  her  own.  The  logical  consequence  of  this  was  that  the 
dreams  might  have  their  origin  in  the  waking  experiences 
of  either  B  I  or  B  IV.  If  in  those  of  B  I,  then  B  IV 
on  waking,  though  remembering  the  dream,  would  have  no 
idea  of  its  source ;  and  vice  versa.  For  instance,  the  dream 
might  be  of  a  person  seen  in  the  street  by  B  I,  B  IV 
would  then  fail  to  recognize  the  origin  of  the  dream  person, 
though  B  I  would  do  so. 

The  fact  that  Sally  knows  B  IV's  dreams  also  indicates 
that  B  I  and  B  IV  revert  to  a  common  consciousness, 
which  is  probably  the  real  self  asleep.  Of  course,  all  Sally 
knows  is  that  B  IV,  of  whose  thoughts  she  is  ignorant, 
falls  asleep  and  then  begins  to  dream  ;  when  she  begins  to 
dream,  she  (Sally)  knows  her  thoughts. 

The  dreams  of  B  I  and  B  IV  are  also  those  of  B  II. 
Ask  B  II  what  her  dream  of  last  night  was,  and  you  will 
find  that  it  is  the  same  in  every  particular  as  that  of  B  I 

I  DREAMS  343 

and  B  IV.  So  that  all  these  personalities  become  one,  so 
far  as  their  thoughts  are  concerned,  when  they  are  asleep. 
It  IS  when  they  wake  that  they  become  differentiated. 
This  all  harmonizes  with  the  hypothesis  that  B  II  may  be 
the  real  self  hypnotized.  And  yet  the  experiment  of  wak- 
ing B  II  had  been  a  failure. 





ON  February  16,  1900,  the  following  ecstatic  letter  was 
received  from  poor  Miss  Beauchamp,  telling  of  the 
great  joy  that  had  come  into  her  life  because,  as  she 
believed,  she  was  cured  at  last: 

"I  want  you,"  the  letter  ran,  "to  be  the  very  first  to  hear 
my  glad  tidings  of  peace  and  joy.  They  have  come  to  me  at 
last,  after  all  these  years  of  unrest  and  suffering,  come  despite 
my  impatience  and  unbelief,  despite  my  little  faith,  my  much 
sinning.  Aren't  you  glad  for  me?  —  very,  very  glad?  But  I 
know  that  you  are.  You  have  been  so  good,  so  patient  always. 
I  cannot  thank  you.  Words  are  all  too  poor  for  that,  even 
though  they  would  come  at  my  bidding,  but  I  shall  never,  never 
forget  you  nor  what  you  have  done  for  me.  And  if  I  have 
made  things  very  hard  for  you,  especially  during  this  last  year, 
I  beg  that  you  will  forgive  me  now." 

I  had  been  prepared  for  this  announcement  by  an  inter- 
view the  previous  afternoon  with  Sally,  who,  in  a  state  of 
discontent,  had  come  to  air  her  woes.  The  family,  Sally 
said,  was  kicking  up  didoes,  and  she  wasn't  going  to 
stand  it,  and  that  was  all  there  was  to  it.  B  I  thought 
herself  cured  and  was  trying  to  get  into  a  convent;  B  IV 
had  taken  half  the  contents  of  a  two-ounces  bottle  of  lau- 
danum, but  it  had  made  her  sick  and  she  had  vomited, 
which  was  perhaps  what  saved  her  life.  Sally  did  not 
understand  the  meaning  of  it  because  not  only  did  she  not 
know  B  IV's  thoughts,  but  "IV  was  not  that  kind  of  a 


person."  As  to  B  I's  going  into  a  convent,  Sally  was  dis- 
gusted at  the  idea;  it  was  perfectly  absurd,  she  insisted, 
for  Miss  Beauchamp  was  not  fitted  for  it;  nevertheless 
Miss  Beauchamp  was  making  her  preparations,  and  was 
trying  to  bring  the  matter  about.  Evidently,  underlying 
Sally's  views  of  fitness  was  the  fear  that  possibly  she  her- 
self might  be  shut  up  in  a  convent,  a  life  not  to  her  liking. 

Here  was  a  new  tangle  into  which  the  family  was  getting 
and  which   required  to   be  straightened   out.      So   I   de- 
spatched a  letter  to  each  of  the  senior  members  separately,  j 
asking  for  an  interview.^ 

B  I  arrived  in  a  state  of  mind  different  from  any  in 
which  she  had  ever  appeared.  She  was  in  a  high  state  of 
mental  exhilaration,  because,  as  she  averred,  she  was  cured 
at  last.  All  her  symptoms  had  vanished,  and  she  experi- 
enced a  feeling  of  well-being  and  physical  health.  She 
believed  herself  well.  No  letters  had  been  received  of 
late  from  Sally,  and  from  this  she  inferred  that  that  lady 
had  disappeared  for  good.  (She  did  not  know  that,  for  a 
wonder,  Sally  had  kept  her  promise  not  to  write  such  let- 
ters.) To  be  sure,  she  had  slight  i-elapses  when  she  "lost 
time,"  as  she  admitted.  But  these  periods  were  of  short 
duration,  and  she  did  not  consider  them  of  importance. 
She  plainly  interpreted  every  event  through  her  dominant 
idea  of  physical,  if  not  spiritual,  "conversion."  She 
thought  she  was  more  like  her  old  self,  as  she  had  been 
before  this  trouble  came  upon  her,  and  was  supremely 
happy.  She  was  also  highly  excited  over  the  scheme  of 
joining  the  Catholic  Church,  and  going  into  a  convent. 
The  recovery  of  her  health  would  allow  her  to  follow  a 
religious  life  in  accordance  with  her  ideals.  Besides  the 
religious  satisfaction  which  a  convent  promised,  it  would 
solve  the  problem  of  the  practical  difficulties  of  her  present 
life.     She  argued,  very  logically,   that  she  was  not  fit  to 

^  Sally  arranged  that  each  should  get  her  own  letter. 


take  care  of  herself.  She  might,  under  the  strains  of  life, 
have  new  attacks  of  her  trouble,  and  here,  at  last,  was  a 
haven  of  rest,  a  life  serene  and  congenial  to  her  ideals  and 
tastes.  She  was  plainly  in  a  state  of  exaltation.  Al- 
though she  had  not  slept  for  more  than  an  hour  a  night 
for  several  nights,  nevertheless  she  was  not  a  bit  tired, 
although  under  ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have 
been  a  physical  wreck. 

Her  happiness  would  have  been  delightful  to  look  upon, 
had  it  not  been  that  it  was  an  abnormal  condition,  and  one 
that  could  not  last.  Psychologically,  this  new  mental 
condition  was  interesting,  as  it  afforded  an  opportunity  to 
observe  an  example  of  that  state  of  exaltation  into  which 
notoriously  so  many  religious  enthusiasts  have  fallen  when 
the  feeling  of  a  new  spiritual  life  has  been  awakened  in 
them.  At  such  moments,  under  the  influence  of  a  domi- 
nating idea  which  has  surged  up  perhaps  from  somewhere 
within  them,  or  has  been  suggested  by  their  own  conscious 
thoughts,  they  have  been  filled  with  a  strong  emotion  of 
joyousness,  and  have  interpreted  their  relations  to  their 
environment,  to  the  world,  and  to  God,  in  accordance  with 
this  imperative  idea,  often  to  the  extent  of  creating  hallu- 
cinations and  illusions  which  to  them  appear  as  super- 
natural communications. 

Inquiry  into  the  origin  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  belief 
proved  an  interesting  study,  throwing  light  as  it  did  upon 
the  psychological  mechanism  of  those  sudden  miraculous 
conversions  which  have  played  so  important  a  part  in 
religious  history.  An  account  of  how  Miss  Beauclmmp's 
ecstatic  belief  was  brought  about  was  obtained  from  B  I  a 
and  B  II. 

B  I  a,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  simply  Miss  Beau- 
champ  hypnotized,  stated  that  B  I  in  a  condition  of  hope- 
less despair  had  betaken  herself  to  church,  thinking  that 
through  self-communing  and  prayer  she  might  find  some 


way  out  of  her  difficulties.  What  particularly  distressed 
B  I  was  her  transformation  into  Sally,  who  seemed  to  be 
absorbing  more  and  more  of  her  life,  and  the  feeling  that 
sooner  or  later  she  herself  would  become  too  great  a  tax 
upon  the  patience  and  care  of  her  friends.  What,  she 
asked  herself,  would  become  of  her  when  thrown  upon  her 
own  resources.  The  church  was  empty,  and,  as  she  com- 
muned with  herself,  her  feeling  of  self-despair  and  hope- 
lessness deepened.  Then^  of  a  sudden^  all  was  changed^ 
without  her  kno^ving  how  or  why.  She  became  filled  with  a 
great  emotion  of  joyousness  and  of  well-being;  a  "great 
load  seemed  to  be  lifted  from  her;"  she  felt  "as  light  as 
air."  A  great  feeling  of  peace,  of  restfulness,  and  happi- 
ness came  over  her.  She  felt  well  and  believed  herself 
well.  With  these  emotions  came  religious  memories, 
memories  of  her  own  experiences  and  of  religious  visions 
which  she  had  had  a  long  time  ago.  She  remembered,  for 
instance,  visions  of  the  Madonna  and  of  Christ  and  scenes 
of  a  religious  character  (Appendix  L).  Her  cure  seemed 
miraculous,  and  she  felt  and  believed  that  she  had  had  a 
Visitation.  Under  the  influence  of  these  exalted  religious 
feelings  the  idea  naturally  came  to  her  of  entering  a  con- 
vent. The  life  appealed  to  her  and  she  thought  that  the 
freedom  from  care  and  anxiety  which  it  offered  would  solve 
the  problem  of  her  own  life,  and  that  she  would  remain 
well.  This  was  all  the  light  that  B  I  a  could  throw  upon 
the  change  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  condition.  She  was  able 
to  state  the  facts,  but  was  unable  to  explain  by  what  psy- 
chological process  the  transformation  had  been  suddenly 
made  from  the  state  of  hopeless  depression  to  that  of 
religious  exaltation  and  happiness.  The  complete  expla- 
nation was  obtained  from  B  II. 

There  was  a  gap  in  B  la^s  knowledge^  that  is,  between 
the  ending  of  the  depressed  state  and  the  inrusliing  of  the 
exalted  state.     This   gap   B  II  was  able   to   fill.     (This 


hypnotic  personality  clearly  recognized  Miss  Beauchamp's 
condition  as  purely  one  of  ecstasy,  indeed  so  clearly  that 
she  analyzed  her  mental  condition  for  me.  The  point  is 
worth  noting  that  Miss  Beauchamp  hypnotized  into  B  11 
became  a  perfectly  rational  person  who  recognized  the 
previous  quasi-delirium  of  herself.)  B  IFs  account  of 
the  origin  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  ecstasy  was  very  precise 
and  as  follows: 

While  Miss  Beauchamp  was  communing  with  herself, 
her  eyes  became  fixed  upon  one  of  the  shining  brass  lamps 
in  the  church.  She  went  into  an  hypnotic,  or  trance-like 
state,  of  which  neither  Miss  Beauchamp  nor  B  I  a  has  any 
memory.  In  this  hypnotic  state  her  consciousness  was 
made  up  of  a  great  many  disconnected  memories,  each 
memory  being  accompanied  by  emotion.  There  were 
memories  of  religious  experiences  connected  with  her  own 
life  and  other  memories  of  a  religious  character;  and  these 
memories  were  accompanied  by  the  emotions  which  they 
had  originally  evoked.  There  were  also  memories  of  her 
early  life,  memories  of  happy  times  when  she  had  been 
well ;  these  memories  also  were  associated  with  the  emo- 
tions which  she  had  at  the  time  experienced.  For  instance, 
to  take  a  few  specific  illustrations  and  tabulate  them  with 
the  accompanying  emotion : 


of  a  scene  at ,  a  view  of      of    well  being ;    peacef illness, 

the  sea  with  the  light  of  the      and  happiness. 

setting  sun  playing  upon  the 


of  walking  with  a  friend  near      of  peacefulness  and  rest, 
the  same  place  and  conversing. 

of  driving  in  the  country  with      of  peacefulness  and  rest, 
same  friend. 

[The  above  were  all  real  incidents  of  her  girlhood.] 



of  different  visions  of  Christ  of  exaltation,  of  lightness  of 

and  the  saints.     [All  or  most  body,  of  mental  relief,  peace- 

of  these  she  had  had  at  differ-  fulness,  and  joyousness. 
ent  times  in  the  past.] 

of  a  vision  of  herself  shut  up     of  restfulness,  happiness,  light- 
in  a  dungeon.  ness  of  body. 

of  music  which  she  had  heard      [Not  the  usual  emotional  thrills 
in  a  church.  of  music,  but]  of  lightness  of 

body  and  great  joy. 

There  was  no  logical  connection  between  these  memories 
—  all  were  jumbled  and  without  order,  but  the  accompany- 
ing emotions  were  very  strong. 

After  a  short  time  Miss  Beauchamp  awoke,  and  on 
waking  all  the  memories  which  made  up  the  consciousness 
of  the  hypnotic  state  were  forgotten.  At  first  her  mind 
was  a  blank  so  far  as  logical  ideas  were  concerned.  She 
thought  of  nothing  definite,  though  soon  ideas  rapidly 
flitted  through  her  mind,  and  yet  she  was  filled  with 
emotions.  They  were  the  same  emotions  which  belonged  to 
the  different  memories  of  the  hypnotic  state.  These  emotions 
persisted.^  They  were  of  lightness  of  body,^  of  physical 
restfulness,  and  well-being,  besides  those  of  exaltation, 
joyousness,  and  peace,  largely  of  a  religious  nature.  It 
is  probable,  reasoning  from  analogous  phenomena  that  I 

1  We  have  already  seen  examples  of  this  persistence  of  the  emotion  be- 
longing to  a  dissociated  state  after  the  subject  has  changed  to  another  state. 
That  is,  the  emotions  of  B  IV  were  often  felt  by  B  I,  and  vice  versa.  When 
we  come  to  study  the  subconscious  state,  or  the  secondary  consciousness,  we 
shall  find  that  it  is  made  up  of  disconnected  memories  and  emotions,  and  that 
tlie  latter  may  be  common  to  both  the  primary  and  the  secondary  conscious- 
ness. I  frequently  made  use  of  this  principle  for  tlierapeutic  purpo-tses,  that 
is,  creating  in  B  II  emotions  of  well-being.  When  she  awoke  the  same 
feelings  persisted  in  the  waking  state  though  everything  said  and  done  dur- 
ing hypnosis  was  forgotten. 

^  Lightness  of  body  may  possibly  be,  strictly  speaking,  a  sensation  rather 
than  an  emotion,  and  yet  it  is  probably  a  complex  feeling,  and  so  interwoven 
with  emotion  that  it  may  for  practical  purposes  be  regarded  as  an  emotion. 


have  witnessed,  there  were  subconsciously  present  a  number 
of  disconnected  images,  or  memories,  —  remnants  of  those 
which  had  been  experienced  in  the  trance  state,  and  asso- 
ciated with  the  emotions  (p.  298).  Presently  ideas  began 
to  come  into  her  mind.  The  emotions  were  now  accom- 
panied by  a  lot  of  ideas  and  memories  of  religious  expe- 
riences, those  which  B  I  a  had  described.  It  is  significant 
that  these  ideas  were  not  those  originally  associated  with 
the  emotions  in  hypnosis,  but  newly  suggested  ideas.  At 
least  they  appear  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  emotions. 
She  felt  well  and  believed  herself  cured  at  last. 

Naturally,  as  Miss  Beauchamp  did  not  know  what 
occurred  during  the  time-gap  when  she  was  in  the  trance- 
like state,  she  thought  that  the  sudden  change  in  her 
mental  condition  and  physical  health  was  miraculous  and 
was  due  to  a  "Visitation."  The  idea  of  a  convent  life 
logically  followed  her  religious  exaltation. 

Before  discussing  further  the  psychological  mechanism 
of  Miss  Beauchamp's  "ecstasy"  I  should  like  to  point  out 
the  striking  psychological  similarity  between  her  experi- 
ence and  that  of  M.  Alphonse  Ratisbonne,  whose  case 
William  James  quotes  in  a  chapter  on  Conversion  in  his 
very  interesting  lectures  on  "The  Varieties  of  Religious 
Experience."  For  several  days  Ratisbonne  had  been 
unable  to  banish  from  his  mind  the  words  of  a  prayer 
given  him  by  a  proselytizing  friend,  and  the  night  before 
the  crisis  had  had  a  sort  of  religious  nightmare.  Then 
after  entering  a  church  some  kind  of  a  psychical  accident 
happened;  all  the  surroundings  vanished  and  the  crisis 

It  would  seem  clear  from   Ratisbonne's  own  account 

that   he  must  have  gone  into  a  trance  in  the  church  at 

the  moment  when  "the  dog  had  disappeared,  the  whole 

church  had  vanished,"  and  he  "no  longer  saw  anything" 

1  See  Appendix  M. 


about  him,  and  that  he  had  a  religious  vision  accompanied 
by  ecstatic  emotions.  At  any  rate,  he  went  into  a  state 
which  was  abnormal,  and  presumably  identical  with  the 
state  into  which  Miss  Beauchamp  fell,  except  that  it  was 
followed  by  partial  memory,  that  is,  of  the  vision  of  the 
Virgin.  I  would  say  here,  parenthetically,  that  any  one 
who  has  had  experience  in  catechising  persons  who  are  the 
subjects  of  psychoses  must  feel  great  scepticism  about  ac- 
cepting their  statements  of  their  psychological  experiences 
without  subjecting  them  to  a  very  critical  examination. 
Such  subjects  generally  describe  their  exj)eriences  under 
the  dominating  belief  of  their  own  interpretation.  A 
searching  cross-examination  will  generally  bring  out  la- 
cunae in  either  their  memories  or  statements,  and  numerous 
additional  facts  which  put  an  entirely  different  interpre- 
tation upon  the  phenomena. 

Thus  Miss  Beauchamp  exhibited  a  hiatus  in  her  memory 
and  was  unable  to  give  a  complete  account  of  what  hap- 
pened in  the  church.  To  obtain  such  a  complete  history  it 
was  necessary  to  resort  to  hypnosis,  and  even  the  hypnotic 
state,  B  I  a,  knew  only  a  part  of  the  mental  facts.  It  was 
necessary  to  obtain  a  larger  hypnotic  state,  B  II,  to  obtain 
a  complete  memory  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the  sub- 
ject's consciousness.  Similarly  the  mere  statements  of 
people  who  have  experienced  "  convei*sion "  can  scarcely 
be  regarded  as  sufficient  to  determine  tlie  psychological 
processes  involved.  An  examination  under  hypnosis  in 
most  cases  probably  would  bring  out  all  the  details  of 
the  process.  The  mental  condition  of  the  subject  in  such 
supreme  moments  is  summed  up  by  James  as  follows: 

"  It  is  natural  that  those  who  personally  have  traversed  such 
an  experience  should  carry  away  a  feeling  of  its  being  a  miracle 
rather  than  a  natural  process.  Voices  are  often  heard,  lights 
seen,  or  visions  witnessed;  automatic  motor  phenomena  occur; 
and  it  always  seems,  after  the  surrender  of  the  personal  will,  as 


if  an  extraneous  higher  power  had  flooded  in  and  taken  posses- 
sion. Moreover  the  sense  of  renovation,  safety,  cleanness, 
lightness,  can  be  so  marvellous  and  jubilant  as  well  to  warrant 
one's  belief  in  a  radically  new  substantial  nature."  ^ 

James's  theory  explains  "  the  phenomena  as  partly  due 
to  explicitly  conscious  processes  of  thought  and  will,  but 
as  due  largely  also  to  the  subconscious  incubation  and 
maturing  of  motives  deposited  by  the  experiences  of  life. 
When  ripe,  the  results  hatch  out,  or  burst  into  flower.  "^ 

According  to  this  theory  there  is  a  gradual  growth  of 
ideas  which  have  been  dissociated  at  some  previous  time 
from  the  primary  consciousness,  and  when  these  subcon- 
scious thoughts  reach  a  certain  development  they  burst 
into  the  field  of  the  waking  self.  It  is  possible  that  this 
may  be  the  mechanism  of  the  processes  in  certain  minds, 
particularly  those  of  the  hysterical  type,  in  which  a  sub- 
consciousness is  readily  formed,  but  the  weak  point  in 
the  theory  is  that  no  positive  evidence  has  thus  far  been 
brought  forward  that  there  is  such  a  large  doubling  of 
normal  minds;  and  even  in  hysterical  minds,  though  the 
theory  may  well  be  true,  it  still  lacks,  as  does  that  of 
Sidis,  experimental  verification.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  when  sufficient  data  have  been  collected  to  explain 
completely  the  psychological  process,  it  will  be  found  that, 
though  the  subconscious  plays  a  part,  James's  theory  needs 
considerable  modification.  It  will  be  noticed  in  B  I  that 
the  process  resulting  in  the  state  of  ecstasy  was  quite  dif- 
ferent. In  her  case  there  was  no  incubation  or  floAvering 
of  subconscious  ideas ;  it  was  simply  that  the  emotions  of 
the  trance  state  persisted  after  waking  as  a  state  of  exalta- 
tion, and  of  themselves,  through  their  naturally  associated 
ideas,  suggested  the  beliefs  which  took  possession  of  her 

1  The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  238. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  230.  Sidis  ("  Psychology  of  Suggestion  ")  earlier  expressed  the 
view  that  the  phenoinensi  manifested  in  religious  revivals  are  due  to  dissocia- 
tion of  consciousness  and  sugorestions  to  the  subconscious. 


mind.  So  I  think  it  will  probably  be  found  that  the  part 
played  in  other  cases  by  the  subconscious  mind  consists  in 
furnishing  emotions  (which  primarily  belong  to  its  discon- 
nected memories),  rather  than  logical  ideas. 

The  fact  that  in  times  of  sudden  conversion  voices  are 
often  heard,  lights  seen,  visions  witnessed,  etc.,  together 
with  an  overpowering  emotion,  is  evidence  that  these 
people  at  such  moments  are  not  in  a  stable  state  of  mind, 
but  rather,  it  would  seem,  in  a  trance-like  or  hypnoid  con- 
dition, or  whatever  name  we  may  choose  to  call  it  by.  In 
this  state  a  complete  recognition  of  the  surroundings  may 
be  lost,  and  the  subject  is  dominated  by  hallucinatory 
ideas  and  emotions. 

There  is  no  difference  fundamentally  between  such  a 
state  and  certain  so-called  hysterical  states  which  quite 
commonly  are  observed  following  emotional  shocks.  The 
emotional  factor  in  producing  the  hysterical  state  is  gen- 
erally of  a  startling  or  terrorizing  character,  and  hence 
this  state  is  frequently  observed  as  the  onset  of  traumatic 
neuroses,  which  are  most  commonly  caused  by  terrifying 
accidents  like  railway  collisions.  Or,  the  emotion  may  be 
simply  part  of  an  intense  apprehension  or  idea  of  danger, 
or  it  may  be  simply  the  sequence  of  a  startling  piece  of 
news,  such  as  would  shock  the  natural  feelings  of  affection, 
or  awaken  intense  jealousy,  etc.  Thus,  Fanny  S.  was 
thrown  into  such  a  condition  on  hearing  the  news  of  an 
accident  to  a  relative  who  had  been  hit  by  a  passing 
railroad  train,  though  the  injury  was  not  serious;  and 
Mary  H.  went  into  a  similar  condition  when  it  was  an- 
nounced to  her  that  her  husband  had  eloped  with  another 
woman.  After  waking  there  may  be  complete,  partial,  or 
no  amnesia,  but  in  any  event  the  ideas  belonging  to  the 
crisis  with  their  emotions,  like  fear  of  fire,  or  of  disease, 
or  of  danger  of  one  form  or  another,  ma}^  persist  or  recur 
subconsciously,  and  there  from  time  to  time  enter  tlie  per- 



sonal  consciousness;  or  the  personal  consciousness  may 
be  continuously  conscious  of  the  emotions  without  being 
aware  of  their  exact  source  or  meaning.  In  the  latter 
case,  the  sufferer  may  be  the  constant  prey  of  depressing 
fears  —  true  obsessions.  In  all  such  psychoses  the  emo- 
tional element  causing  the  split  in  the  normal  integration 
of  the  mind  is  of  a  distressing  character. 

But  it  may  be  that  effects  psychologically  similar  may  be 
produced  by  powerful  ecstatic  emotions  which  the  religious 
imagination  calls  forth.  The  development  of  such  exalt- 
ing emotions  becomes  easier  when  preceded  by  the  mental 
strain  ordinarily  induced  by  the  doubts,  fears,  and  anxie- 
ties, which  go  with  the  intense  introspection  which  relig- 
ious scruples  call  forth.  Torn  and  distracted  by  doubt, 
the  personality  is  easily  disintegrated,  and  then  the  ecstatic 
emotions  associated  with  religious  hopes  and  longings  take 
root.  At  this  crucial  moment  the  subject,  like  St.  Paul 
when  he  heard  the  voice  of  Christ,  perhaps  half  oblivious 
of  his  surroundings,  sees  visions  which  are  apt  to  be  the 
expression  of  his  new  belief,  and  hears  a  voice  which 
speaks  his  own  previous  thoughts.  On  coming  out  of  this 
hysteroid,  or  hypnoid,  state  the  exalting  emotions  persist, 
along  with  an  incomplete,  or  possibly  complete,  memory  of 
all  that  took  place  in  the  hysteroid  state.  These  emotions 
then  give  an  entirely  new  shape  and  trend  to  the  individual 
ideas,  just  as  the  distressing  emotions  following  hysteri- 
cal accidents  determine  the  form  of  the  mental  content. 
Psychologically,  the  ecstatic  state  following  is  as  much 
an  obsession  as  is  one  in  which  fixed  depressive  feare  are 
dominant.  I  think  that  it  will  be  found  that  in  sudden 
conversions  of  the  type  we  are  considering,  this  is  sub- 
stantially the  psychology  of  the  matter,  and  that  the 
succeeding  mental  state  of  ecstasy  is  conditional  on  the 
development  of  a  hysterical  state  at  the  onset,  as  it  plainly 
was  in  the  case  of  Ratisbonne. 


The  analysis  of  a  large  number  of  cases  made  at  the  time 
of  the  crisis  is  essential  for  a  proper  study  and  understand- 
ing of  the  phenomenon.  The  memory  of  a  person  who 
narrates  his  experience  afterwards  is  unreliable,  as  he  noto- 
riously may  be  the  victim  of  amnesia,  and  it  is  unsafe  to 
trust  statements  purporting  to  give  the  psychical  state  of 
the  subject  at  a  moment  when  he  was  under  intense  emo- 
tional excitement.  If  it  was  the  fact  that  he  went  into  a 
trance  state,  he  probably,  like  B  I,  would  be  unaware  of  it. 
Such  personal  accounts,  too,  are  always  written  from  a 
religious  and  not  from  a  psychological  point  of  view.  It 
is  to  be  hoped  that  at  some  time  in  the  future  a  psychol- 
ogist may  have  the  opportunity  to  examine  critically  a 
number  of  such  cases  at  first  hand,  and  particularly  by  the 
hypnotic  method.  It  is  probable  that  this  method  will 
bring  out  facts  now  scarcely  suspected. 



AFTER  solving  the  problem  of  B  I's  ecstasy,  I  brought 
Sally,  who  was  in  high  spirits,  notwithstanding  the 
fact,  which  she  admitted,  that  she  was  herself  disappear- 
ing, going  back  to  whence  she  came.  She  was  being 
locked  up  again  in  the  subterranean  vaults  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  was  "  deader  now  than 
any  one  of  the  family."  She  did  n't  like  it,  and  she  did  n't 
W'ant  to  go  into  a  convent,  and  she  "wasn't  going  to, 
either."  Then  Sally  became  very  naughty,  and  said  a  lot 
of  impertinent  things,  largely  as  an  outlet  of  jealousy, 
putting  a  childlike  construction  on  various  things  she  had 
heard.  But  the  fit  did  not  last  long,  for  that  evening  she 
wrote  a  repentant  letter,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
abstract.  I  wish  I  could  give  the  letter  in  its  entirety,  as 
it  shows  the  sweet  side  of  her  character,  but  it  would  not 
be  fair  to  her. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  she  wrote.  "  I  was  perfectly  horrid  this 
afternoon,  but  now  I  am  all  repentant  and  I  want  to  listen." 
Then  she  goes  on  to  describe  her  own  point  of  view.  "  I  can- 
not bear,"  the  letter  continued,  "  to  think  of  going  off  under 
Papa  Leo's  wing,  never  seeing  anybody  again.  ...  I  can't  do 
it.  Dr.  Prince,  I  can't  and  I  won't,  ...  I  don't  want  any 
nasty  old  priestly  man.  I  hate  them  all !  Are  n't  you  the 
least  bit  sorry  for  me  ?  .  .  .  Because  I  have  behaved  badly  to 
you  I  am  going  to  take  B  I  to  the  cathedral  thing  to  divert  her 
mind.  You  like  that,  don't  you?  .  .  .  Do  poodles  have  morals 
too?     Isn't  there   any  place  free  from  them?     I  don't  want 


tbem,  nor  anything  but  .  .  .  and  I  can't  see  why  it  should  be 
wrong  .  .  .  but,  right  or  wrong,  I  don't  care.  Please  forgive 
me  again  .  .  .  and  let  me  stay.     Please,  please,  please." 

The  following  letters  from  IV  and  Sally  illustrate  the 
way  in  which  one  got  into  hot  water  in  consequence  of  an 
inconvenient  change  at  the  wrong  moment.  Sally,  owing 
to  her  childish  ignorance  of  worldly  wisdom,  had  misinter- 
preted the  meaning  of  something  said  by  "Jones,"  and 
had  quoted  him  accordingly.  When  afterward  Sally  told 
"  Jones "  how  she  had  quoted  him  he  naturally  was 
annoyed,  and  charged  her  with  a  message  correcting  his 
reported  statement;  but  just  as  he  was  delivering  himself 
Sally  changed  to  IV  and  got  the  message,  which  was 
entirely  unintelligible  to  her  and  not  flattering  to  her 
vanity,  as  it  referred  to  her  worldly  ignorance  as  Sally. 
(It  is,  naturally,  impossible  for  either  B  I  or  IV  completely 
to  realize  her  character  as  it  is  portrayed  by  her  subcon- 
sciousness.)    IV's  letter  runs  as  follows: 

"Thanks  for  your  note,  which  I  hoped  to  acknowledge  per- 
sonally on  Friday,  but  could  not  because  of  an  urgent  sum- 
mons elsewhere  —  to  Mars  or  Saturn,  I  think,  from  which  I 
have  but  just  returned.  You  do  uot  consider  laudanum  experi- 
ments interesting?  Neither  do  I  now.  But  they  might  have 
been,  you  know,  and  at  any  rate  I  am  loads  wiser  than  before. 
Which  reminds  me  that  one  thing  I  am  particularly  charged  to 
say  to  you  had  better  be  said  now.  It  is  in  connection  with 
my  wisdom  —  or  rather  lack  of  it  —  through  which  it  seems  I' 
have  been  misrepresenting  J.  He  regrets  exceedingly  that  it 
is  not  possible  for  him  to  appear  personally  in  the  matter,  but 
wants  you  to  know  that  he  never  made,  nor  dreamed  of  mak- 
ing, any  such  statements  as  I  credited  him  with.  He  also  says 
further  that  he  is  sure  you  will  agree  with  him  in  absolving  me 
from  all  evil  intent,  as  it  arose  from  my  '  almost  incredible 
ignorance  concerning  certain  things,  an  ignorance  which  by  this 
time  you  must  be  quite  as  conscious  of  as  he  is.'     Delightfully 


flattering,  isn't  it?  But  I  promised  you  should  have  the  mes- 
sage as  he  gave  it. 

"  I  have  not  accomplished  anything  this  morning,  nor  have  I 
finished  the  accounts  you  asked  me  to  write  out.  I  know  what 
you  will  say  —  that  I  have  not  really  tried  —  but  it  is  not  true, 
and  you,  wonder-worker,  should  know  that  it  is  n't.  I  have 
tried  and  I  shall  keep  on  trying  to  the  end  ;  if  not  with  you, 
then  with  some  one  else.     Yet  I  hope  with  you. 

"  I  shall  come  Wednesday,  unless  you  write  me  to  the  con- 
trary.   If  you  do,  please  drop  the  IV.    It  is  so  absurd. 

"  Monday. 

"  Don't  you  think  the  odds  are  tremendously  against  me  in 
this  attempt  to  conquer  Sally  ?  " 

Here  is  Sally's  letter  of  February  20,  1900,  on  the  same 
subject.  These  letters  bring  out  the  contrast  between  the 
two  personalities: 

"  I  must  write  this  in  the  greatest  haste,  but  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I  did  n't  tell  her  anything  —  really.  She  got  the 
message  because  J.  was  so  anxious  to  be  quoted  correctly  that 
he  repeated  it  again  after  she  came.  I  'm  so  sorry !  1  can't 
seem  to  keep  out  of  hot  water  with  any  one  except  Dicky,  .  .  . 
He  wants  me  to  write  him  now,  and  IV  is  simply  raging  about 
it.  She  will  probably  tell  you  when  you  see  her,  unless  she  is 
in  one  of  her  proud  fits,  I  cannot  understand  her.  She  is  the 
most  puzzling,  contradictory  creature  I  ever  saw.  I  want  to 
tell  you  about  J.  tomorrow,  and  about  Dicky's  letters  and  ex- 
periments. You  are  dear  to  pardon  all  my  offences,  but  I 
knew  you  would.  B  I  is  still  in  the  clouds,  and  still  fancies 
herself  cured.  She 's  doing  all  sorts  of  things  so  that  IV  and 
myself  are  awfully  squeezed.  We  don't  have  any  time,  nor 
amusement,  nor  anything  that  we  want,  but  IV  keeps  on  fight- 
ing just  the  same.  She  simply  won't  give  in.  It  is  amusing, 
and  sometimes  I  rather  like  her.  She  snubs  D most  un- 
mercifully when  he  tries  to  assume  a  protecting  air.  He  is  n't 
so  scientific  now." 


Only  a  few  days  passed  before  there  was  more  trouble. 
Sally  had  not  only  appropriated  again  most  of  IV's 
money,  but  had  spent  it  and  put  the  latter  on  a  short 
allowance  of  a  few  cents  a  day;  in  addition  to  this  IV 
had  discovered  that  Sally  had  accepted  a  present  of 
money  from  some  acquaintance,  presumably  Anna.  IV 
was  much  annoyed  in  consequence  of  the  false  position  in 
which  she  was  placed.  Unwilling  that  Sally,  much  more 
herself,  should  accept  a  gift  from  this  source,  IV  insisted 
that  the  money  should  be  paid  back.  I  pass  by  all  this 
and  the  troubles  it  led  to,  as  well  as  what  appeared  to  be  a 
surreptitious  attempt  on  the  part  of  Anna  to  induce  Sally 
to  secure  possession  of  the  "Autobiography." 

I  was,  of  course,  called  in  to  bring  Sally  to  account  and 
to  rectify  affairs.  In  desperation,  IV  had  prepared  an 
ultimatum,^  which,  if  Sally  and  Sally's  friends  did  not 
accept,  she  proposed  to  put  into  effect.  It  provided  that 
all  communication  between  Sally  and  her  friends,  Anna 
and  Jones,  was  to  cease,  there  were  to  be  "  no  more  non- 
sense letters,  no  more  appeals  to  me,  no  interference  with 
her  mail,  with  money,  with  papers,  with  clothes."  Sally 
was  to  have  a  fixed  allowance  of  money  each  week,  a  cer- 
tain stated  time  to  herself  for  certain  purposes,  and  she  was 
to  finish  the  autobiography  immediately.  Full  authority 
was  given  to  myself  and  one  other  person  to  take  action  in 
IV's  affairs  if  Anna  and  Jones  did  not  give  up  all  com- 
munication with  Sally ;  and  if  Sally  on  her  part  persisted 
in  going  on  in  the  way  she  was  doing,  she,  Sally  (which, 
of  course,  included  the  family)  was  to  be  locked  up  in 
an  asylum.  It  mattered  not  that  IV  would  necessarily  be 
locked  up  too.  She  was  in  earnest  now,  her  blood  was 
up.  Whatever  the  consequences  to  herself,  Sally  must  be 

1  I  have  a  rough  draft  of  this  ultimatum  in  my  possession. 


The  following  was  received  from  Sally  the  day  after  IV 
disclosed  her  woes  and  wrote  her  ultimatum: 

"Are  you  going  to  send  me  away  too  and  never,  never  let 

me  see  you  again  ?  I  have  n't  been  bad  enough  for  that,  have  I  ? 
really  and  truly  bad?  wicked?  I  did  not  mean  to  be.  I  can't 
bear  to  have  you  cross  with  me !  I  can't !  It 's  worse  than 
everything  else.     Oh,  so  much  worse.     B  I  is  good,  isn't  she? 

"  Will  you  talk  to  her?  .  .  .I'm  sending  you  what  IV  has 
been  scribbling,  because  it 's  psychological  and  I  thought  you  'd 
like  it.  Please  say  you  are  glad.  I  want  you  to  be  always 
glad.  Some  day  you  will  be  old,  won't  you?  very,  very  old  I 
mean,  and  not  be  able  to  do  things  —  the  things  that  you  wish 
for  now.  And  tell  me,  will  it  be  soon  or  on  some  far,  far  day .-' 
I  want  to  know. 

"  Sincerely  and  entirely, 

"  Your  repentant, 

"  S.  B. 

"  Friday." 

A  day  or  two  later  IV  had  what  must  be  accounted  a 
very  remarkable  experience  in  what  the  ancients  would 
have  called  demoniac  possession,  and  which  to-day  we 
are  familiar  with  in  minor  forms  as  subconscious  mental 
action.  I  am  certain  that  in  Biblical,  and  perhaps  in  early 
Salem  days,  when  they  hung  witches,  if  a  person  exhibited 
the  peculiar  manifestations  which  I  am  going  to  relate  she 
would  have  been  considered  to  be  literally  possessed  by 
the  devil  (I  hope  Sally  will  not  take  offence  if  her  eyes 
ever  rest  on  this),  and  perhaps  would  have  been  burned  at 
the  stake  if  the  devil  (or  Sally)  could  not  be  otherwise  cast 

This  is  what  happened,  substantially  in  B  IV's  own 
words  as  I  took  them  down  : 

B  IV,  in  a  depressed,  despondent,  rather  angry  frame 
of  mind,  was  looking  at  herself  in  the  mirror.  She  was 
combing  her  hair,  and  at  the  time  thinking  deeply  over 


the  interview  she  had  just  had  with  me  in  regard  to  \ 
her  ultimatum  to  Sally.  Suddenly  she  saw,  notwithstand-  ' 
ing  the  seriousness  of  her  thoughts,  a  curious,  laughing 
expression  —  a  regular  diabolical  smile  —  come  over  her 
face.  It  was  not  her  own  expression,  but  one  that  she  had 
never  seen  before.  It  seemed  to  her  devilish,  diabolical, 
and  uncanny,  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  her  thoughts. 
(This  expression  I  recognized  from  the  description  to  be 
the  peculiar  smile  of  Sally,  which  I  had  often  seen  upon 
the  face  of  B  I  or  B  IV.)  IV  had  a  feeling  of  horror 
come  over  her  at  what  she  saw.  She  seemed  to  recognize 
it  as  the  expression  of  the  thing  that  possessed  her.  She 
saw  herself  as  another  person  in  the  mirror  and  was  fright- 
ened by  the  extraordinary  character  of  the  expression. 
(Here  she  broke  off  her  story  to  ask  if  it  was  possible  to 
see  oneself  as  another  person  in  this  way. )  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  her  to  talk  to  this  "thing,"  to  this  "other 
pei"son,"  in  the  mirror;  to  put  questions  to  "it."  So  she 
began,  but  she  got  no  answer.  Then  she  realized  that  the 
method  was  absurd,  and  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to 
speak  and  answer  at  the  same  time.  Thereupon  she  sug- 
gested to  the  "thing"  that  it  should  write  answers  to  her 
questions.  Accordingly,  placing  some  paper  before  her  on 
the  bureau  and  taking  a  pencil  in  her  hand,  she  addressed 
herself  to  the  face  in  the  glass.  Presently  her  hand  began 
to  write,  answering  the  questions  that  were  asked,  while 
B  IV,  excited,  curious,  wild  for  information  of  the  past, 
kept  up  a  running  fire  of  comment  on  the  answers  of 
Sally,  for,  of  course,   the  "thing"  was  Sally. 

The  following  is  a  partial  record  of  the  questions  and 
answers  written  out,  with  comments  by  B  IV  from  the 
original,  which  I  have: 

First,  questions,  to  which  no  answer  is  given;  then 
speech  setting  forth  Sally  Beauchamp's  responsibility  for 
the  face  [in  the  mirror]  and  threatening  laudanum,  etc., 


unless  questions  are  answered  immediately.  Still  no  re- 
sponse—  then  pencil  and  paper. 

(Who  are  you  ?)  ^ 

A  spirit. 

(Stuff!     Tell  the  truth.     Why  did  I  forget?) 

Forget  what  ? 

(From  Providence.  What  happened  then  ?  What  does 
it  all  mean  ?) 

Jones  spoke  to  you  and  you  died. 

(Answer  me.) 

I  have  answered  you.     Ash  Dr.  Prince. 

(Why  do  you  dislike  Dr.  Prince  ?) 

1  douH.     I  like  him.     Amen. 

(Indeed!     How   very   interesting!     Shall   I   tell   him? 

What  about  A M ,  then,  and  why  have  you  been 

gossiping  ?) 

IwonH  tell  you. 

(You  will  tell  me.) 


(You  will.)  The  pencil  is  pressed  down  so  hard  that  it 
breaks;  then  it  is  flung  violently  across  the  room.  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  losing  consciousness,  but  by  a  great  effort  I 
hold  myself,  take  another  pencil,  and  repeat : 

(You  will.) 

I  get  nothing,  however,  for  several  minutes ;  then  a  lot 
of  curving  lines,  then, 

What  do  you  want  to  know '? 

(What  I  said,  what  Dr.  Prince  said,  what  you  said.) 

/  woTfCt  tell  you. 

( )     . 

Only  a  threat  concerning  J.,  which  I  had  not  the  slight- 
est intention  of  putting  into  force.  It  acted  like  magic  on 
the  "spirit,"  however,  and  I  got  the  following,  written 
very  rapidly: 

1  The  questions  asked  by  B  IV  are  enclosed  in  parentheses ;  the  replies 
written  by  the  hand  are  printed  in  italics. 


[Here  the  "spirit"  told  the  substance  of  the  conversa- 
tion between  Sally  and  Jones,  which  afterwards  was  the 
occasion  of  the  latter's  reproving  Sally  and  sending  the 
message  which  IV  got  by  mistake  through  an  untimely 
change  of  personality.] 

.  .  .  When  I  told  Dr.  Prince  he  said,  ''''Nonsense,  it 
isnH  true,  and  you  must  have  misunderstood  Jones.''"'  And 
I  asked  Jones  again  and  you  got  the  message  yourself. 

(When  did  you  repeat  this  stuff  ?) 

Ten  years  ago  last  Monday. 

(Answer  me.) 

/  have  ansivered  you.     Ask  Dr.  Prince. 

(Why  have  you  dropped  Jones  and  Anna  ?) 

You  dropped  them  yourself. 

(Why  do  you  hate  me  ?) 

The  answer  to  this  question  was  a  rude  sketch  of  a  girl 
seated  by  an  open  lire.  It  was  wholly  without  suggestion 
as  far  as  I  could  see.  I  have  received  similar  ones  in  the 

(Have  you  been  telling  Dicky  what  I  said  about  him  ? 
Don't  you  know  any  better?) 


(You  have,  too.     Can  you  make  me  hear  things  ?) 


(You  can't.  You  shall  help  me  to  remember  them. 
Don't  write.  Go  back,  back,  way  back  to  Providence 
and  Jones,  and  make  me  remember  everything,  everything. 
Do  you  understand  ?) 

I  won't  do  it.      You  shall  not  remember.    Amen.    Amen. 

Again  I  feel  as  if  losing  consciousness,  and  again  I 
exert  my  will  to  the  very  utmost  to  prevent  this.  A  great 
many  things  come  into  my  mind  as  memories,  not  very 
clearly,  however,  and  not  in  a  sequence.  I  ask  about 
A M as  a  sort  of  test  and  then  is  written  — 

IwonH,    IwonH.     IwonH. 


Another  struggle  (mental),  then  certain  things  come  to 
me ;  whether  they  are  true  or  not,  I  do  not  know.  I  get 
intensely  excited,  then  I  remember  about  the  experiment 

connected  with  A M ,  which  you  had  wished  to 

try  in  the  morning.  If .  I  can  get  that  it  will  be  more 
satisfactory,  more  convincing,  for  it  can  be  verified.  I 
repeat  again  certain  phrases,  mentally,  to  Sally,  with  this 
in  view,  but  I  get  nothing.  Then  I  repeat  them,  the 
phrases,  aloud,  and  there  come  to  me  slowly,  not  very 
clearly,  certain  things  —  those  which  I  wrote  you  —  which 
you  said  were  approximately  correct.  Then  in  writing  I 

Devil,  devil,  devil.  Amen.  You  HI  he  sorry  when  Pm 
gone.  Amen.  You  don't  care.  Then  a  lot  of  wild  scrawl- 
ing lines. 

B  IV,  further  commenting  on  this  experience,  writes : 

"I  was  intensely  excited,  talked  much  more  than  was  nec- 
essary, and  could  not  help  commenting  on  everything  that  was 
written.  The  writing  was  very  poor,  difficult  to  decipher,  and 
spread  all  over  the  paper.  The  whole  thing  occupied  about  two 
hours,  as  nearly  as  I  can  judge." 

The  fact  that  the  writing  was  spontaneous,  like  that 
which  I  had  an  opportunitj'^  to  personally  observe  and 
which  will  be  given  in  the  next  chapter,  deserves  to  be 
emphasized,  because  this  spontaneity  removes  it  from  the 
class  of  artifacts  unwittingly  manufactured  by  the  observer. 
B  IV,  as  she  testifies,  was  not  in  an  abstracted  state  while 
the  writing  was  done,  but  was  alert,  conscious  of  her  sur- 
roundings, excited  and  extremely  curious  to  know  what 
the  hand  was  writing.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  she  was 
not  under  observation  at  the  time,  —  though  this  would  have 
given  rise  to  the  suspicion  that  the  doubling  of  consciousness 
was  an  artifact,  —  but  I  have  seen  the  same  feat  performed 
under  substantially  similar  conditions. 


Under  these  conditions  of  alertness  the  content  of  the  writ- 
ing indicates  that  the  authorship  was  that  of  some  sort  of  a 
self  which  at  the  moment  was  co-conscious  and  possessed  of 
wide  memories  and  of  a  peculiar  individuality.  Beginning 
with  the  smile  in  the  glass,  followed  by  the  desire  to  tease, 
the  evidences  of  dislike,  and  the  knowledge  exhibited  on 
the  part  of  Sally,  we  find,  running  throughout  the  episode, 
evidences  of  a  very  different  kind  of  mentation  in  the  sub- 
conscious self  from  that  peculiar  to  the  primary  conscious- 
ness. But  besides  this  difference  in  quality,  the  wide 
extent  of  the  field  of  the  subconsciousness,  as  revealed  by 
her  replies,  is  worth  noting.  A  study  of  Sally's  replies 
shows  a  knowledge  of  facts,  which,  from  my  personal  famil- 
iarity with  them,  there  is  reason  to  believe  were  not  known 
by  IV.  They  belonged  to  Sally's  fife  or  to  that  of  B  I, 
The  field  of  subconscious  ideas  would  seem  to  rival  in  ex- 
tent what  she  possesses  when  present  as  the  dominant  con- 
sciousness. There  are  also  evidences  of  humor,  logical 
reasoning,  and  volition. 

Let  us  not  forget,  however,  that  when  automatic  phe- 
nomena are  obtained  while  the  subject  is  in  a  state  of  deep 
abstraction,  as  is  probably  most  often  the  case,  they  will 
not,  from  my  point  of  view,  bear  the  interpretation  that 
they  are  wholly  the  manifestation  of  a  subconscious  mind. 
Under  such  conditions  much  of  this  sort  of  automatism, 
whether  in  normal  or  abnormal  persons,  is  only  in  appear- 
ance a  subconscious  manifestation.  In  reality  it  is  in  large 
part,  if  not  wholly,  due  to  alternation  of  conscious  states. 
The  state  of  abstraction  into  which  the  subject  goes  is  so 
deep  that  there  is  little  left  of  the  principal  consciousness. 
A  new  personality  is  formed  and  this  personality  is  more  of 
an  alternating  than  a  subconscious  one.  It  does  the  writ- 
ing while  the  original  personality  is  reduced  to  a  few  auto- 
matic thoughts  and  actions,  like  reading  aloud.  The  real 
automatism  is  that  of  the  distracted,  and  often  blind,  deaf, 


dumb,  and  anesthetic  extract  of  the  former  self,  while  the 
second  self  is  a  quite  awake  person.  From  this  point  of 
view  the  following  observation  of  Dr.  Janet's  belongs  to 
this  type: 

"  She  [Mme.  B.]  was  seated  at  a  table  and  held  in  her  left  hand 
the  piece  of  knitting  at  which  she  had  been  working,  Her  face 
was  calm,  her  eyes  looked  into  space  with  a  certain  fixity^  but  she 
was  not  cataleptic,  for  she  was  humming  a  rustic  air ;  her  right 
hand  wrote  quickly,  and,  as  it  were,  surreptitiously.  I  removed 
the  paper  without  her  noticing  me,  and  then  spoke  to  her ;  she 
turned  round  wide-awake,  but  surprised  to  see  me,  for  in  her 
state  of  distraction  she  had  not  noticed  my  approach.  Of  the 
letter  which  she  was  writing,  she  knew  nothing  whatever."  ^ 
[Italics  are  mine.] 

In  the  case  of  B  IV  both  sorts  of  writing  have  been 
observed,  —  the  purely  co-conscious,  and  the  alternating 

1  "  Les  Actes  Inconscients  dans  le  Somnambulisme  Psychologique ; "  Rev. 
Philosophique,  March,  1888.     (Translation  by  Myers.) 



SOMETHING  has  already  been  told  of  Sally's  autobiog- 
raphy and  of  the  catastrophe  to  which  it  was  subjected. 
Some  further  explanation  of  the  conditions  under  which  it 
was  written  will  make  its  import  clearer. 

In  view  of  Sally's  often  repeated  assertions  that  she  had 
always  existed  as  a  separate  and  independent  mind  from 
early  childhood,  it  was  plainly  of  psychological  interest 
that  she  should  write  an  autobiography  of  her  own  mental 
life.  She  could  therein  describe  her  own  relations  to  her 
environment,  and  contiust  them  with  those  of  the  primary 
consciousness.  An  account  of  this  kind,  in  which  the 
two  streams  of  thought,  feeling,  and  emotion,  that  of  the 
primary  and  that  of  the  "  Hidden  Self,"  should  be  de- 
scribed, so  that  the  two  selves  could  be  contrasted,  would 
be  of  value.  In  it  Sally  could  tell  of  her  own  feelings, 
hoj)es,  and  desires,  which  she  asserted  were  independent 
and  distinct  from  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp. 

It  would  necessarily  involve  an  account  of  the  daily  and 
petty  doings  of  her  Hfe,  and  even  the  little  secret  thoughts 
that  fill  the  recesses  of  a  girl's  mind.  As  Marie  Bashkirt- 
seff  told  every  little  secret  emotion  of  her  soul,  so  Sally 
would  have  to  tell  her  own  and  Miss  Beauchamp's,  This 
Sally  agreed  to  do  and  after  many  difficulties  succeeded  in 
doing,  although  she  was  careful  not  to  disclose  the  secrets 
of  others.  Many  things  she  told  of  which  even  Miss  Beau- 
champ  was  ignorant,  many  things  she  saw  which  Miss 
Beauchamp  did  not  notice,   and  many   things  she   heard 


which  Miss  Beauchamp  never  heard,  for  as  a  dissociated 
consciousness  she  claimed  to  see  and  hear  much  that  did 
not  enter  the  consciousness  of  the  primary  self.  A  good 
deal  of  this,  of  course,  is  too  private  to  put  into  print. 

The  autobiography,  then,  is  a  descriptive  history  of  a 
dissociated  mind ;  but  it  also  gives  an  introspective  record 
of  a  well-organized  secondary  mind,  of  thoughts,  feelings, 
emotions,  and  even  of  a  "  will,"  of  which  the  personality 
whom  we  call  the  primary  consciousness  has  no  knowledge 
whatsoever,  excepting  of  course  so  far  as  she  has  learned  of 
it  by  the  revelations  of  this  study.  Putting  aside  for  the 
moment  the  question  of  the  interpretation  of  the  evidence, 
this  record  is  a  descriptive  account  of  the  alleged  persist- 
ent flow  of  the  two  streams  of  conscious  life  from  child- 
hood to  the  present  time.  The  subconscious  stream  has 
often  been  tapped  by  other  observers,  but  I  believe  that 
this  is  the  first  occasion  where  a  secondary  self  has  spon- 
taneously attempted  to  narrate  its  own  subconscious  biog- 
raphy. It  is  highly  desirable  that  such  a  history  should 
be  confirmed  by  the  accounts  of  other  cases  recorded  by 
independent  observers,  in  order  that  the  degree  to  which 
the  doubling  of  consciousness  may  take  place  may  be  de- 
teimined.  This  duality,  to  whatever  degree  developed, 
whether  rudimentary,  or  well  organized  as  in  Miss  Beau- 
champ,  is  one  of  the  most  significant  facts  which  modern 
psychology  has  revealed. 

Miss  Beauchamp,  the  saint  that  she  was,  was  quite 
willing  to  put  aside  all  her  own  feelings  and  allow  Sally  to 
write  the  story  of  her  life,  as  has  already  been  related.  B  II, 
also  with  the  same  sense  of  loyalty  and  a  desire  to  aid  those 
who  were  aiding  her,  gratefully  made  the  sacrifice  of  her 

With  B  IV,  however,  it  was  another  story.  She  had  no 
sense  of  duty  or  self-sacrifice.  She  felt  that  every  hand 
was   against  her  and  she  was  against  every  one  in  turn. 


Sally  had  dubbed  her  the  "  Idiot,"  and  tliis  sobriquet  she 
thought  reflected  my  early  sentiments  as  well,  especially 
as  she  knew  that  I  disapproved  of  her  ways  and  had 
sought  to  change  her  into  another  personality.  This  was 
enough  to  make  her  disbelieve  all  professions  of  interest 
in  her  welfare.  It  was  not  possible,  therefore,  to  take  IV 
into  our  confidence,  since  she  would  certainly  do  every- 
tliing  in  her  power  to  thwart  us.  "  IV  won't  like  it,"  Sally 
would  say  in  warning,  but  we  thought  nevertheless  that 
her  wishes  were  not  of  much  consequence,  for,  as  Sally  said, 
it  was  probable  that  she  wasn't  "real  anyway,"  even  if  she 
was  more  than  a  picture  card,  as  Alice  discovered  her 
people  in  Wonderland  to  be,  and  if  we  succeeded  in  the  end 
in  changing  her  to  the  real  one,  the  views  of  this  somnam- 
bulistic lady  would  then  be  past  history  and  belong  to  the 
land  of  unreality.  It  seemed  unwise  too,  as  a  matter  of  dis- 
cipline, to  consult  IV,  although  she  was  sure  to  discover 
what  was  being  done.  B  IV,  then,  was  not  taken  into  our 
confidence  at  first.  Sally  endeavored  to  write  the  story 
without  IV's  knowledge,  hiding  the  manuscript  each  day 
that  IV  might  not  see  it.  But  this  could  not  be  very  suc- 
cessfully done,  for  sooner  or  later  Sally  would  of  course 
be  sure  to  change  to  IV  in  the  midst  of  her  work  and  then 
the  jig  would  be  up.     This  was  in  fact  what  happened. 

IV  of  course  flew  into  a  rage  at  finding  that  her  private 
life  was  being  WTitten  out  in  cold  ink,  if  not  print.  She 
bore  it  for  awhile,  but  finally  in  fury  and  rebellion,  as  al- 
ready narrated,  she  tore  into  bits  the  manuscript  when  this 
was  nearly  finished. 

I  had  been  so  anxious  to  obtain  this  account  of  INIiss 
Beauchamp's  life,  that  when  I  saw  this  evidence  of  psy- 
chological vandalism  I  made  no  effort  to  restrain  my 
indignation,  unphilosophical  as  this  may  have  been.  My 
disappointment  was  too  great  for  me  not  to  be  human  as 
well  as  a  physician,  so  B  IV,  I  am  afraid,  was  indignantly 



reproached  for  her  conduct.  My  discourse,  if  not  just, 
was  at  any  rate  effective,  for  she  agreed  to  allow  the  work 
to  be  rewritten,  and  never  again  to  interfere;  and  this 
promise  she  kept,  though  at  first  it  was  in  no  gracious 
mood  that  she  set  about  the  task,  but  in  an  outraged 
spirit  of  indignation,  as  of  one  sentenced  to  penal  punish- 
ment. Later  she  became  largely  reconciled,  and  I  think 
was  more  bored  than  anything  else  by  the  work.  At  any 
rate,  she  did  it  pleasantly  enough.  It  was  agreed  that  an 
attempt  should  be  made  to  reproduce  the  manuscript  by 
"automatic  writing,"  as  Sally  claimed  to  have  a  much 
better  memory  while  she  was  a  subconsciousness  than 
when  she  was  present  or  awake  as  the  dominant  personal- 
ity. So  Sally  again  began  the  tiisk,  making  use  of  the 
hand  of  IV  (or  I)  just  as  she  carried  on  the  colloquy  with 
IV  narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  Several  pages  were  re- 
produced in  this  way,  but  it  was  slow  work ;  so  IV  agreed 
to  allow  Sally  to  devote  a  part  of  each  day  to  the  task,  — 
Sally  to  write  as  the  waking  personality.  Nevertheless 
from  time  to  time  some  pages  were  written  "  auto- 
matically." It  is  necessary  to  bear  this  in  mind  in  order 
to  understand  the  comments  of  IV  and  the  irrelevant  inter- 
jections of  Sally  which  are  intei-spersed  throughout  the 
account  and  by  which  it  is  interrupted  from  time  to  time. 

IV  used  to  come  to  my  study  for  the  purpose  of  allow- 
ing Sally  to  complete  the  task.  Sitting  at  the  desk,  pencil 
in  hand,  she  would  wait  either  for  Sally  to  use  her  hand  to 
write  automatically  or  to  be  herself  transformed  into  that 
young  lady.  Often  becoming  impatient  for  herother " sub- 
liminal "  consciousness  to  begin,  she  herself  would  write 
some  remark,  generally  personal,  to  Sally,  who  in  reply 
would  subconsciously  write  a  pertinent  retort,  or  IV  would 
rub  out  a  running  fire  of  sarcastic  comments  on  Sally's 
statements,  muttering  her  criticisms  under  her  breath  for 
Sally  to  hear,  —  a  most  effective  method  for  her  purpose. 


Or,  again,  IV  would  interrupt  the  account  by  writing  com- 
ments on  Sally's  work  or  criticisms  on  her  literary  style,  a 
matter  on  which  Sally  was  particularly  sensitive ;  indeed 
the  latter  was  always  quick  to  resent  IV's  assumption  of 
superior  wisdom  and  learning.  IV  at  times  became  furious 
at  some  of  the  statements,  declaring  they  were  not  true. 
These  for  the  most  part  concerned  events  which  occurred 
when  IV  was  not  in  existence  and  of  which  she  had  no 
knowledge.  Some  of  these  interruptions  have  been  pre- 
served and  inserted  in  the  text.  With  this  explanation 
they  will  be  understood.  Another  matter  it  will  be  well 
for  the  reader  to  keep  strongly  in  mind :  it  is  the  dis- 
sociated consciousness  which  is  writing,  and  therefore  it 
is  the  world  as  seen  by  this  Self,  and  the  feelings  and 
thoughts  as  experienced  by  this  Self  which  are  described, 
and  not  the  mental  experiences  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  though 
the  external  facts  were  common  to  both. 

After  the  autobiography  was  written  I  went  over  it  with 
Sally,  criticising  and  questioning  some  of  her  statements. 
Her  replies,  giving  further  information  on  certain  points, 
are  printed  as  footnotes. 


[The  autobiography  begins  in  a  somewhat  flowery,  child- 
ish style  with  a  few  brief  memories  of  infancy,  wliile  she 
was  in  her  cradle.  When  I  refused  to  accept  the  accuracy 
of  her  memory  she  went  on  as  follows :] 

(Revised  for  Dr.  Prince,  who  questions  the  statements 
I  have  made  and  thinks  I  have  not  been  sticking  to  the 
actual  facts.  I  insist  that  I  liave,  that  everything  I  have 
written  is  fact,  and  that  I  do  remember  the  night  described 
when  I  cried  for  such  a  long  time  and  some  one  tried  to 
comfort  me.) 

I  have  not  succeeded  in  drawing  the  bars  of  the  cradle,  I 
know,  but  that  is  immaterial.     I  remember  the  thing  itself. 


And  the  other  days  and  nights  too  I  ^  remember,  when  real 
and  unreal  things  began  to  be  strangely  confused,  and 
about  learning  to  walk  and  talk.  It  was  so  hard  at  first. 
Afterwards  I  liked  it  better,  for  it  was  "  willing,"  you  know, 
—  the  first  that  I  was  conscious  of.  It  was  at  this  time 
too  that  I  was  conscious,  not  exactly  of  being  a  different 
person,  but  of  being  stronger  in  purpose,  more  direct  and 
unswerving  than  I  appeared,  and  of  being  in  a  certain 
sense  opposed  ^  to  myself.  This  feeling  was  much  stronger 
at  some  times  than  at  others.  Why,  I  do  not  know. 
Then  first  began  my  impatience  with  C,  who  instead  of 
attending  to  whatever  she  might  be  doing  would  suffer  her- 
self to  be  distracted  by  a  thousand  and  one  things.  For 
instance  in  walking,  just  as  I  would  get  most  interested 
and  eager  to  go  on,  down  she  would  flop  in  a  heap  to  study 
her  shoes,  to  gaze  at  the  people  in  the  room,  or  to  play 
with  some  treasure  she  had  discovered  on  the  floor.  Then 
I  was  conscious  both  of  the  child  on  the  surface,  so  easily 
affected  and  diverted,  and  of  the  other  ^  child  who  was 
yeai-s  and  years  older  (I  insist  I  was  older)  and  stronger. 

[Sally,  when  cross-examined  about  these  statements  regard- 
ing the  date  of  the  beginning  of  double  consciousness,  and 
asked  for  specific  instances,  made  the  following  additional 
statement :] 

"  She  was  just  a  very  little  girl  just  learning  to  walk,  and 
kept  taking  hold  of  chairs  and  wanting  to  go  ahead.  She 
didn't  go  ahead,  but  was  all  shaking  in  her  feet.  I  remember 
her  thoughts  distinctly  as  separate  from  mine.  Now  they  are 
long  thoughts  that  go  round  and  round,  but  tlien  they  were 
little  dashes.  Our  thoughts  then  went  along  the  same  lines 
because  we  had  the  same  experiences.  Now  they  are  different; 
our  interests  are  different.     Then  she  was  interested  in  walk- 

1  There  was  uo  separation  as  yet. 

2  Beginning  of  separation  of  two  consciousnesses.  This  separation  was 
not  continuous,  but  stronger  at  time.s 

*  Myself  as  a  personality  distinct  from  C. 


ing,  and  I  was  too,  only  I  was  very  much  more  interested,  more 
excited,  wildly  enthusiastic.  I  remember  thinking  distinctly 
differently  from  her;  that  is,  when  she  tried  to  walk  she  would 
be  distracted  by  a  chair  or  a  person  or  a  picture  or  anything, 
but  I  wanted  only  to  walk.     This  happened  lots  of  times. 

"  Learning  to  walk  was  the  first  experience  of  separate 
thoughts.  I  remember  before  this  there  was  n't  anything  but 
myself,  only  one  person.  I  don't  know  which  came  first.  I 
remember  when  I  was  there  farther  back  than  she  can,  and 
therefore  why  wasn't  I  the  person? 

"I  remember  lots  of  little  things.  When  she  was  a  little  bit 
of  a  thing  (so  small  that  she  could  n't  walk  very  well)  she  had 
visions  very  often.  I  did  n't,  but  I  was  conscious  of  her  hav- 
ing them.  Her  visions  did  n't  represent  real  things  as  they  do 
now.  I  thought  they  were  interesting  and  enjoyed  her  having 
them.  During  all  her  childhood  I  remember  enjoying  many 
of  the  things  she  did.  She  was  awfully  fond  of  out-of-door 
things,  —  climbing,  running,  etc.  I  enjoyed  them  and  wanted 
to  go  farther  than  she  did.  Some  people  she  liked  I  did  n't. 
Some  people  she  went  to  see  and  talked  with  I  did  n't  want  to 
see,  but  could  n't  help  it. 

"  I  suggested  things  to  her  sometimes  by  thinking  hard.  / 
didn't  really  do  them;  she  did  them,  but  I  enjoyed  it.  I  don't 
know  that  I  made  her;  I  thought  about  them  very  hard.  I 
did  n't  deliberately  try  to  make  her,  but  I  wanted  to  do  the 
things  and  occasionally  she  carried  out  my  thought.  Most 
times  she  did  n't  when  my  thoughts  were  entirely  different 
from  her  own.  Sometimes  she  was  punished  for  doing  what  I 
wanted  ;  for  example,  I  did  n't  like  going  to  school ;  I  wanted 
to  play  '  hookey.'  I  thought  it  would  be  awfully  exciting  be- 
cause the  boys  did  it  and  were  always  telling  about  it.  She 
liked  going  to  school.  One  day  she  stayed  away  all  day  after 
I  had  been  thinking  about  it  for  a  long  time.  She  did  n't  want 
to  do  it,  but  she  did.  She  was  punished  and  put  to  bed  in  a 
dark  room,  and  scolded  in  school  and  made  to  sit  on  one  end 
of  the  platform ;  she  was  shy  and  felt  conspicuous. 

"I  always  knew  her  thoughts;  I  knew  what  she  was  think- 
ing about  on  the  platform.  She  was  thinking  partly  of  being 
penitent  and  partly  of  fairy  tales,  so  as  not  to  be  conscious  of 


the  scholars  and  teacher,  and  she  was  hungry.  I  was  chuck- 
ling and  thought  it  amusing.  I  did  not  think  of  anything  else 
except  that  her  fairy  tales  were  silly.  She  believed  in  fairies, 
that  they  were  real.     I  did  n't  and  don't.     At  this  time  she 

was  a  little  girl.     I  was,  there  during  all  the  life  with  J 

and  at College.     I  never  forced  her  to  do  things  till  lately. 

Lots  of  times  when  she  was  a  little  bit  of  a  thing  I  was  angry 
when  she  was  n't." 

Finally  this  "  double  consciousness,"  ^  or  whatever  you 
choose  to  call  it,  became  fixed,  and  continuous,  although 
never  reaching  C  I,  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  never  felt  as 
C  U 

It  was  only  as  C  II  that  I  felt  it,  but  as  C  II  it  did  not 
help  me  very  much,  for  at  that  time  I  could  not  get  my 
eyes  open.^  I  have  not  expressed  this  well,  I  know,  for 
in  attempting  to  express  it  I  get  hopelessly  "  squeezed," 
the  Idiot  appears,  and  everything  vanishes  before  her 
wrath,3  since  she  does  not  approve  of  me  or  of  Dr. 
Prince,  or  indeed  of  any  one  save  Mr.  "Teddy  Jones," 
an  old  friend  of  the  family,  of  whom  I  shall  write  more 
fully  later. 

In  all  this  time  until  our  first  going  to  school  there 
was  little  of  importance  that  happened.  C.  was  even  then 
shy,  nervous,  and  imaginative  *  —  terrified  by  the  appear- 
ance of  her  father,  but  woi-shipping,  literally  worshipping, 
her  mother,  who  did  not  however  care  for  her  and  paid  her 
slight  attention. 

1  That  is,  C  I  was  not  conscious  of  me,  as  she  is  not  now. 

2  By  this  I  mean  figuratively,  not  literally ;  that  is,  I  cannot  be  always 
present  as  the  dominant  personality.  [By  C  II  Sally  here  means  herself, 
B  III,  not  the  C  II  she  later  mentions,  p.  382.  —  M.  P.] 

'  That  is,  she  tears  up  my  manuscript.  [This  refers  to  the  interesting 
psychological  fact,  that  when  Sally  thought  deeply  on  intellectual  subjects 
such  as  belonged  to  the  primary  consciousness  .she  tended  to  change  to  I 
or  IV.  — M.  P.] 

*  During  all  this  time  my  thoughts  were  different  from  hers.  We  thought 
about  the  same  things  at  the  same  time,  but  differently  about  them.  Now  we 
think  about  different  things  at  the  same  time  because  my  life  is  different 
from  hers  and  I  know  things  she  does  n't  know. 


(Not  to  be  quoted  to  C,  who  will  deny  it,  but  it  is  a  fact 
nevertheless,  and  one  which  I  consider  of  great  importance, 
inasmuch  as  it  has  deeply  affected  her  whole  life.) 

The  first  day  we  were  sent  to  school  we  ran  away,  and 
also  the  second  day,  so  that  it  was  long  before  we  went 
again,  but  when  we  did  go  we  stayed.  C.  liked  it  im- 
mensely and  used  to  get  awfully  enthusiastic  over  her 
lessons  and  over  her  teachers,  but  I  never  cared  for  either. 
They  were  so  tiresome  and  uninteresting.  The  school  life 
and  being  brought  into  contact  with  different  people 
changed  C.  very  much.  She  was  happier  and  not  so  shy 
and  frightened,  although  at  home  things  were  just  as  bad  as 
ever,  and  we  were  at  home  a  great  deal,  for  she  was  often 
ill.  Then  in  the  long  vacations  before  J.  came  we  used  to 
be  awfully  lonely,  for  there  was  no  one  to  play  with,  little 
to  do,  and  we  did  not  seem  to  be  especially  wanted  at 
home.  C.  used  to  spend  much  of  her  time  curled  up  in  the 
garret  away  from  every  one,  and  then  she  was  quite  happy 
with  her  books  and  day-dreaming  and  visions,^  but  I  did 
not  care  for  them,  for  I  knew  they  were  n't  true,  —  they 
never  are.  T  liked  much  better  being  out  of  dooi-s,  climbing 
trees,  etc.,  for  it  was  more  as  if  I  and  C  I  were  "  willing  "  ^ 
and  doing  it. 

1  Whenever  C.  had  a  vision  she  lost  all  consciousness  of  herself  and  her 
surroundings—  not  living,  as  it  were,  until  the  vision  had  j)iussed.  This  was 
true,  I  think,  in  all  instances  except  when  she  herself  seemed  to  be  a  part  of 
what  she  saw,  and  tiien,  tiiough  equally  lost  to  her  real  self  and  her  real 
surroundings,  she  lived,  but  only  in  tiie  vision.  But  I  was  aways  conscious, 
both  then  and  now,  of  the  vision  projected  against  tlie  reality,  and  was  never 
confused,  even  for  a  second. 

2  In  saying  that  I  enjoyed  such  things  as  climbing  trees,  etc.,  I  mean  that 
doing  them  seemed  to  call  for  stronger  "  willing,"  which  gave  me  a  certain 
sense  of  power  over  C.  and  at  the  same  time  a  certain  feeling  of  being  one 
with  her.  Our  thoughts  were  the  same  except  that  she  was  not  con.scious  of 
my  existence.  We  were  both  "  willing  "  together  tlie  same  thing.  But  this 
feeling  of  unity  lasted  .'»o  short  a  time  —  only  while  we  were  actually  making 
the  mental  effort  required  to  overcome  a  physical  obstacle.  Other  things  she 
conquered  alone,  for  tliey  did  not  concern  me  —  mental  and  moral  things,  I 
mean  —  I  was  not  interested  in  them  [e.  g.,  lessons,  trials,  and  tribulations]. 


The  nights  were  horrible  always,  for  C.  either  did  not 
sleep  at  all  or  if  she  did  she  would  have  the  most  distress- 
ing dreams,^  usually  about  her  mother  — 

(Here  the  autobiography  was  interrupted  for  the  day.  When 
about  to  be  continued  B  IV  seated  herself  at  the  desk,  with 
pencil  in  hand  ready  to  have  Sally  make  use  of  it  to  write 
automatically ;  she  began  as  usual  with  a  comment,  and  Sally 
of  course  retorted.) 

[B  TV.  "  Amanuensis,  Sally  dear,  quite  at  your  service." 
Sally  (to  B  IV).  "Pig!"] 

—  and  these  dreams  would  send  her  flying  from  bed 
in  perfect  terror  to  listen  for  her  mother's  voice.  If  she 
heai-d  it  she  would  be  quiet  for  a  time  —  comforted  —  but 
if  she  did  not  hear  it,  then  would  begin  one  of  those  dread- 
ful excursions  through  the  house,  through  the  streets,  such 
as  C.  saw  in  the  crystal  a  few  days  ago  — 

[B  IV  (to  Sally).     ''Months,  Sally."] 

—  and  did  not  recognize.  At  least  I  am  not  sure  whether 
she  did  or  did  not  recognize  it,  for  it  was  B  IV  who  saw  it, 
and  B  IV  never,  never  tells  the  truth.^ 

1  I  knew  they  were  dreams  for  the  same  reason  that  I  have  mentioned  be- 
fore in  speaking  of  visions,  —  namely,  that  I  am  always  conscious  of  things  as 
they  are  and  at  the  same  time  am  conscious  of  things  as  they  seem  to  be 
to  C.  and  although  of  course  the  dreams  are  very  different  from  the  visions, 
yet  they  are  equally  absurd,  and  I  do  not  know  why  C.'s  fancying  herself  in 
dreams  running  about  London  should  confuse  me  any  more  than  her  fancying 
that  she  sees  London  before  her  in  a  vision.  In  both  instances  I  know  that 
she  is  she,  that  I  am  I,  and  that  this  present  is  Boston. 

There  is  a  difference  between  her  visions  and  dreams.  In  a  vision  she  sees 
tlie  S(!cue,  even  though  it  includes  herself,  without  any  self-consciousness,  i.  c, 
of  her  own  actual  body,  though  she  may  have  the  same  feelings  that  she  sees 
expressed  by  the  vision  body.  It  is  the  same  when  she  sees  things  in  the  streets ; 
t.  e.,  she  has  feelings  suggested  by  the  scene.  In  dreams  she  takes  part  in  the 
scene  and  thinks  and  feels  and  does  ever3-thing  just  as  if  she  were  awake  in 
her  actual  body.  I  (Sally)  never  dream  now,  but  when  I  was  a  wee  little  bit 
of  a  thing  and  learning  to  walk,  before  the  double  consciousness  became  fixed 
and  when  we  were  one  part  of  the  time,  then  I  dreamed  or  she  dreamed,  for 
we  were  one  at  that  particular  time.     This  was  in  the  little  black  cradle. 

2  [B  IV  insists  that  she  did  recognize  the  vision-child,  but  she  has  seen  pic- 
tures of  herself  at  4-5  years  of  age.  The  rest  of  the  scene  she  probably  did 
recognize  as  the  original  scene.  —  M.  P.] 


The  vision  was  of  a  long  narrow  street,  snow  on  the 
ground,  starlight,  lots  of  trees,  in  the  distance  two  men, 
very  fat,  half  reeling  along,  and  nearer,  close  to  the  first 
tree,  a  little  shivering,  frightened-looking  child  ^  with  a 
small  bundle  in  her  arms  — 

[B  IV  (to  Sally).  "  Provisions,  Sally  dear  ?  Do  tell  me. 
And  do,  for  goodness'  sake,  '  hump '  yourself.  We  can't 
spend  the  summer  here." 

(Here  entered  Dr.  Prince :  After  reading  the  manuscript,  I 
asked  the  subconscious  Sally  whether  Miss  Beauchamp  ran 
about  awake  or  as  a  somnambulist,  and  also  whether  the  vision 
was  true.) 

The  hand  wrote,  "  Not  somnambulistic,"  "  Open  your 
eyes,  stupid,  I  can't  see."     [B  IV  had  closed  her  eyes.] 

"  Open  your  eyes,  eyes,  eyes, 
Open  your  eyes,  I  can't  see  to  write." 

Then,  "  God  will  punish  your  levity  —  I  am  a  spirit. 
You  know  it  is  true." 

B  IV.  "  Stuff !  Write  sensibly  and  answer  Dr.  Prince's 

Dr.  p.   "  Was  the  vision  true  ?  " 

Sally.  "  The  vision  is  true,  and  you  know  it,  and  I  won't 
write  another  word." 

(After  this  inten'uption  B  IV  changed  to  Sally,  who,  no 
longer  a  subconsciousness,  went  on  with  the  manuscript,)] 

C.  was  not  in  a  somnambulistic  condition  at  the  time  of 
the  incident  seen  as  a  vision.  She  had  wakened  in  the 
night,  and  not  finding  her  mother  in  the  house  went  out  in 
search  of  her,  taking  with  her,  not  "  provisions  "  as  B  IV 
suggests,  but  the  old  black  cat  which  she  had  wrapped  up 
to  keep  it  warm.     I  remember  it  distinctly.     The  som- 

i  C. 


nambulistic  things  were  quite  different.  She  was  asleep 
then  as  a  somnambulist  —  and  B  2  went  about  and  B  2  did 
all  sorts  of  curious  things  different  from  dreams  —  differ- 
ent from  visions.     She  usually  had  her  eyes  open  too.^ 

Although  there  were  many  other  nights  when  the  same 
thing  happened,  she  never  took  the  cat  but  twice,  and  then 
only  because  she  fancied  that  it  was  ill,  and  she  did  not 
want  to  leave  it  alone. 

All  this  running  about  at  night  was  the  most  absurd 
thing,  and  I  mention  it  simply  as  showing  how  differently 
we  felt.  I  was  not  nervous.  I  knew  that  the  dream  which 
had  frightened  her  so  was  not  true ;  that  it  meant  nothing ; 
that  wherever  mamma  might  be  she  would  come  home 
safely,  as  she  always  did ;  and  that,  if  we  were  caught  out 
of  bed,  we  should  be  severely  punished.  But  knowing  all 
this  did  not  help  me  in  the  least,  I  had  to  go  in  spite  of 
it  and  in  spite  of  my  "  willing." 

(At  this  point  the  "  auto "  was  interrupted  for  the  day. 
And  when  it  was  taken  up  again  the  next  day  I  came  upon 
B  IV  seated  at  the  desk,  pencil  in  hand,  waiting  for  Sally's 
humor  either  to  go  on  with  the  writing  automatically,  or  else 
to  come  herself  and  do  it ;  but  the  hand  had  refused  to  write. 
It  had  pleased  Sally  for  the  moment  to  do  nothing.  B  IV  had 
become  impatient,  and  as  usual  had  occupied  the  time  in  writing 
messages  to  Sally :) 

[B  IV  to  Sally.  "  It  will  be  for  all  the  week,  and  Sun- 
day, and  start  again  on  Monday,  Sally  dear,  if  you  fail  to 
do  what  M'sieu  requires. 

"  This  is  serious,  deadly  earnest,  too."  —  "  All  the  king's 
horses  and  all  the  king's  men  cannot  help  you  then."  — 
"Come  yourself  and  do  it,  if  you  prefer.  Come,  come, 
come  I "  —  "  Do  you   understand  me  ?  "  —  "  Write  yes  or 

1  This  is  all  right.     "  It  was  B  2  as  far  as  I  know.    Only  there  was  no 
B  IV  then,  just  "  she  "  and  I.     B  2  I  considered  "  she  "  asleep.  — S.  B. 
[This  B  2  is  not  the  same  as  the  B  II  of  this  study.  — M.  P.] 


no." — "  Write  pig,  write  anything."  —  "Are  you  dead?" 
—  "  Were  the  scalpels  and  cupids  too  much  for  you,  Sally 
carissima?    Write,  write,  write." 

(Here  I  also  became  impatient,  and  wrote  the  following 

Dr.  p.  "  Now  do,  Sally,  hurry  up.  I  am  awfully  busy 
and  must  get  this  done,  so  that  I  can  do  my  work." 

Sally.   "  Copy  it  first ;  open  your  eyes." 

B  IV.   "Copy  what?" 

Sally.   "  You  know." 

B  IV.    "I  don't.     Everything?" 

Sally.    "  Yes,  everything.     Dr.  P.  said  to." 

B  IV.    "  Punctuation,  too  ?  " 

Sally.    "  Everything,  stupid !  " 

B  I V.  "I  am  charmed.  Don't  get  stuffy.  I  wish  you  'd 
come  yourself.  Your  constructions  are  simply  barbarous. 
May  I  correct  them?" 

Sally.   "  No,  no,  no,  no.     You  let  them  alone." 

B  IV.    "  This,  too  ?    Next  sentence  ?  " 

Sally.  "Yes,  this  too,  next  sentence.  I  wish  you'd 
write  decently." 

B  IV.  "  If  you  won't  come  I  am  ready  to  go  on  again. 
And  if  you  will  think  '  decently,'  I  will  endeavor  to  write 
'decently.'  Consider  the  beautiful  tombstone  you  are 
going  to  have.     Bee-yu-ti-ful !     Does  n't  it  inspire  you  ?  " 

Saxly.    "  You  are  the  most  hateful  person  I  ever  saw." 

B  IV.  "  Thanks.  I  don't  mind  in  the  least,  if  you  '11 
only  write.     Let 's  begin. 

"  You  're  a  purple  cow,  Sally  dear.     Won't  you  begin  ?  " 

(No  answer  and  a  long  silence. 

Here,  being  appealed  to  by  B  IV,  I  again  took  a  hand  and 
interviewed  Sally,  who  wrote  in  answer  to  my  appeals,  "  I 
won't,  I  won't,"  again  and  again. 


I  directed  B  IV  to  close  her  eyes,  whereupon  the  hand  wrote, 
"  Open  your  eyes,"  objecting  every  time  she  closed  them. 

Finally,  Dr.  P.  (to  Sally).  "  What  do  you  want?  Do  you 
want  to  come  ?  " 

Sally.     "Yes,  yes,  yes." 

So  I  brought  Sally,  who  immediately  broke  out  into  com- 
plaints against  B  IV,  charging  that  she  bothered  her  by  mak- 
ing all  sorts  of  comments  on  her  writing,  and  saying  under  her 
breath  all  sorts  of  disagreeable  things ;  that  she  criticised 
her  construction,  her  language,  and  so  on.  All  this  rattled  her 
badly.  Sally  was  much  put  out  about  it  all,  and  very  angry 
with  rV,  whom  she  abused  roundly.  Afterwards,  when  I 
accused  IV  of  this,  she  excused  herself,  like  a  naughty  child, 
on  the  ground  that  Sally  did  the  same.  So  it  was  pretty  much 
of  a  muchness.  Each  taunted  the  other  unmercifully.  The 
seriousness  with  which  each  took  it  was  quite  comical.)] 

.  .  .  We  felt  differently  about  everything,  I  think,  until 
J.  came.  C.'s  whole  life,  all  her  thought  and  action  and 
feeling,  centred  about  her  mother.  She  believed  that 
God  wanted  her  to  save  mamma  from  some  dreadful  fate, 
and  that  in  order  to  do  this  she  must,  before  the  day  should 
come,  have  attained  a  certain  ideal  state  mentally,  morally, 
and,  I  think,  spiritually.  Everything  that  came  up  was 
tested  in  its  relation  to  this ;  she  was  always  fretting  about 
it,  always  dissatisfied  with  herself,  and  fancying  that  she 
fell  short  (as  she  did). 

This  impossible  ideal  haunted  us  day  and  night  —  there 
was  no  escaping  it,  although  I  must  state,  in  fairness  to  C, 
that  at  that  time  it  was  not  perfection  as  an  end  that 
she  strove  for,  but  perfection  as  a  means  of  attaining  some- 
thing else.  Now  it  is  different ;  she  has  grown  morbid,  un- 
reasonable, and  most  exacting,  not  only  with  herself  but 
with  others,  and  this,  although  she  no  longer  believes 
that  she  is  fitting  herself  for  something.  I  think  that 
after  so  many  years  she  has  acquired  a  habit  of  thinking 
along  certain  lines  and  cannot  drop  it.     People  who  knqw 


her  (B  I)  would  probably  say  that  I  am  entu-ely  wrong 
in  stating  that  she  is  unreasonable  and  exacting,  but  she 
is,  nevertheless.  Not  in  the  ordinary  way,  perhaps,  —  that 
is,  not  outwardly.  But  if  one  believes  one's  friends  to 
have  certain  qualities  — 

(This  train  of  thought  was  not  finished.) 

.  .  .  We  grew  farther  and  farther  apart  in  our  thought 
and  feeling,  and  finally  it  was  almost  as  if  we  had  changed 
places  again.  I  hardly  know  how  to  explain  it  better. 
For  you  know  in  the  beginning  I  used  to  be  conscious  of 
the  child  on  the  surface,  easily  affected  and  diverted  by  her 
own  thoughts  and  by  all  the  little  happenings  about  her, 
and  of  the  other  child  (that's  me)  years  and  years  older, 
who  held  steadily  to  her  purpose  and  was  unwilling  to  be 
diverted  by  anything.  Noiv  it  had  all  changed ;  although 
I  was  still  conscious  of  them  both,  it  was  the  one  on  the 
surface  that  was  steadfast  and  unswerving  and  the  other 
(myself)  that  was  interested  and  attracted  by  the  thousand 
and  one  things  of  no  particular  importance  that  were  pass- 
ing about  us.  So  that  as  a  rule  in  any  given  scene  or 
incident  C.  would  take  in  only  what  might  be  expressed 
as  or  the  thing  itself.  C  II  ^  would  be  conscious  of  more 
details,  while  I  would  be  conscious  not  only  of  the  thing 
itself  with  all  its  details,  but  also  of  much  beside.  So  that 
in  trying  to  recall  anything,  if  it  comes  as  a  memory  C  I 
sometimes  gets  details  that  were  noticed  only  by  C  II. 
She  never  gets  any  that  were  noticed  only  by  myself.  But 
if  the  scene  or  incident  is  recalled  by  a  vision  then  she 
does  sometimes  (not  often,  I  think  —  I  am  not  sure)  get  it 
as  I  saw  it,  and  then  slie  (I,  not  IV)  says  and  believes  either 
that  the  vision  is  not  true  or  true  only  in  part. 

^  I  say  C  II  because  T  do  not  know  how  else  to  express  what  was  in  C.'s 
mind  as  apart  from  mine  and  which  she  was  not  conscious  of  at  the  time,  but 
which  she  remembers  when  hypnotized.  [This  C II  corresponds  to  the  normal 
subconsciousness.  —  M.  P.] 


[Sally  (to  B  IV,  referring  to  some  copying  of  manu- 
script that  Sally  was  to  do).  "Didn't  do  it,  did  you? 
Amen.     Amen."] 

C.  was  always  in  hot  water  then,  because  she  used  to  go 
mooning  about,  not  knowing  half  the  time  what  she  was 
doing;  and,  although  I  knew  perfectly  well,  it  was  not  often 
that  I  could  help  her.  Now  since  I  got  my  eyes  open  I  can 
and  do  help  her  a  great  deal  by  finishing  what  she  is  doing 
and  writing  letters  for  her  and  to  her  for  her  information. 
Sometimes  she  is  so  absentminded  she  forgets ;  then  I  help 
her  out  sometimes.  Sometimes  the  only  way  I  can  do 
anything  is  by  coming  myself,  and  this  kind  of  help  she 
(C.)  doesn't  appreciate,  but  she  ought  to.  It  is  infinitely 
better  than  the  way  things  used  to  be  when  we  were  grow- 
ing up,  and  it  relieves  her  of  lots  of  responsibility.  I  tease 
her  too,  of  course,  but  not  so  much  now,  —  not  since  B  IV 
quarrelled  with  J.  and  refused  to  see  him  again ;  because 
it  was  always  things  about  J.  that  teased  her  most.  She 
never  wanted  me  to  go  anywhere  with  him  or  even  speak 
to  him,  although  she  herself  has  done  exactly  the  same 
things  that  she  complained  to  Dr.  Prince  of  my  doing. 
She  used  to  dress  for  J.  all  the  time,  and  once  she  cut  all 
her  hair  off  short  for  him  so  that  she  looked  like  a  curly- 
headed  poodle,  and  afterwards  she  was  going  to  do  it  again, 
and  would  have  done  it  too  if  Dr.  Prince  had  not  shut  her 
up  in  the  hospital.  The  only  difference  there  has  ever 
been  in  our  relations  with  J.  except  at  first  (after  mamma 
died  and  he  came,  I  mean),  when  I  did  not  like  him  par- 
ticularly, because  he  was  so  tiresome  and  because  he  did 
such  queer  things  which  C.  was  not  conscious  of  but  I 
was,  things  which  people  do  only  when  they  are  cross, 
yet  he  was  never  cross  with  her  apparently  — 

[B  IV.    "  Such  constructions,  Sally  dear  1     Won't  you, 
won't  you  make  them  the  excuse  for  sacrificing  this  1     Let 
Jones  alone.     Take  me."] 
—  The  only  difference  there  has  been  — 


[S.  B.  "  My  constructions  are  perfect,  and  I  don't  think 
you  agree  with  me  to-day.     I  prefer  Jones." 

B  I V.    "  '  Is  that  the  wind  dying,'  Sally  dear  ?  " 

Sally.   "  Bah  !  you  only  threaten."] 
—  They  used  to  read  together  and  then  — 

[B  IV.   "  I  never  read  with  him  in  my  life." 

"  You  did,  B  IV,  you  ^  read  to  him  by  the  hour  when 
you  were  n't  chattering  like  a  magpie.  You  could  n't  see 
him  then  —  but  I  could,  and  sometimes  C  II  saw  him  do 
things  too,  like  cross  and  angry  people.  That  is ,2  you 
half  consciously  saw  him  while  you  were  reading  and 
talking,  without  your  knowing  it,  but  I  did.  So  that 
one  part  of  your  mind  read  and  the  other  saw  J.  unknown 
to  the  first  part  (I  was  separate).  You  were  so  absorbed 
in  the  reading,  you  did  not  notice  what  you  saw  at  the 
same  time.  I  call  this  part  that  saw,  C  II.  I  saw  and 
recognized  things  at  such  times  independently." 

B  IV.  "Your  English  pains  me,  really.  Destroy  this 
and  make  some  excuse  to  M'sieu.     You  know  I  cannot." 

Sally.  "  It' s  Jones  that 's  painful,  not  my  Finglish, 
and  I  'm  afraid  he  '11  be  even  more  painful  before  I  've  fin- 
ished.    I  'm  going  to  tell  everything,  all  about and  all 

because   it 's   interesting   psychologically.     Amen  — 

Amen  —  " 

BIV.    "Stop  — stop!" 

Sally.  "  He  did  things  as  if  he  were  cross,  lots  and 
lots  of  times.  You  would  n't  have  known  if  he  'd  been 
standing  on  his  head  —  you  never  knew  any  of  the  things 

1  (  That  is,  Miss  B.  as  C.) 

2  The  next  five  sentences  in  the  text  are  an  after  elaboration  made  at 
my  suggestion.  In  illustration  of  tliis  fact  that  a  part  of  B  I's  mind  saw 
while   the  other  part  did  not  see,  Sally  mentioned  the  following  incident : 

"  Last  night  B  I  saw  Dr.  P ra  in  the  car.     She  looked  at  him  straight. 

He  was  sitting  opposite,  and  there  was  no  one  else  in  the  car.     Slie  was  think- 
ing of  something  and  was  not  conscious  that  she  saw  Dr.  P m,  but  there 

was  something  in  her  that  did  see  and  recognize  him  apart  from  me.     This 
part  is  what  I  call  C  IL" 


that  I  knew,  and  you  don't  now.  You  are  n't  real  anyway. 
'Teddy'  was  ju8t  the  same  then  that  he  is  now,  only 
you  were  too  stupid  to  see  it.  And  it  proves  what  I  said 
before,  that  you  are  unreasonable  and  exacting  with  people 
because  you  believe  them  to  be  other  than  what  they  are 
and  then  are  disappointed  and  broken-hearted  and  every- 
thing else  because  they  don't,  because  they  can't,  live  up  to 
your  absurd  expectations  —  and  I  don't  believe  a  woi"d  of 
what  you  say.  You  haven't  got  B  I's  memories.  You 
don't  know  anything  about  her,  you  don't.  .  .  ."] 

...  I  cannot  analyze  C's  absorption,  preoccupation, 
whatever  it  was  during  all  those  years  that  prevented  her 
from  seeing  things  as  they  really  were  —  as  I  saw  them  — 
and  which  got  her  into  such  an  endless  amount  of  trouble. 
I  think  there  were  several  reasons  for  it  — 

[To  B  IV.  "If  you  talk  to  me  any  more^  —  if  you  say 
another  word  I  shall  tell  Dr.  Prince." 

(Here  B  IV  twitted  Sally  with  being  afraid  of  Dr.  P.) 

"  I  'm  not.  /  am  not,  but  I  won't  have  you  spoiling 
everything  I  do." 

B  IV  (aloud).     "  What  does  '  Amen  '  mean  ?  " 
Sally.   "  It  does  n't  concern  you  the  least  little  bit  in 
the  world.  —  No,  I  won't !  "J 

—  some  of  which  still  exist.  The  chief  one  of  course 
being  her  fancy  about  mamma.  But  there  were  others  too. 
She  was  dreamy  and  visionary,  as  I  have  said,  seeing  things 
always  rather  through  her  own  thought  than  clearly  and 
truly;  and  at  the  same  time,  despite  her  dreaminess,  she 
threw  herself  with  great  intensity  into  whatever  she  might 
be  doing,  so  tliat  in  all  her  relations  with  J.  before  I  got 
my  eyes  open  she  saw  him  and  thought  of  him  in  an  entirely 
different  way  from  what  I  did.     So  with  Mrs.  X.,  with 

1  B  IV"  kept  coming  and  going  and  talking  aloud  for  Sally  to  hear  as 
yesterday.    This  refers  to  B  I  V's  slanging  her. 


Dr.  P.,  with  nearly  every  one  we  knew.  There  were  a  few 
people  whom  we  both  liked,  but  even  then  we  liked  them 
for  different  reasons  —  C.  caring  for  them  for  what  she 
fancied  they  were,  I  for  what  I  knew  them  to  be.  .  .  . 

As  I  said,  she  used  to  read  to  him  by  the  hour  think- 
ing that  he  was  entirely  absorbed  in  it,  but  he  was  no 
more  absorbed  then  than  he  is  now  when  B  IV  rows  him 
for  thinking  of  her  instead  of  what  she  is  saying.  — 
[To  B  IV.  "  I  won't  come  unless  I  choose.  Ask  Dr. 
Prince  if  he's  cross  with  me  —  ask  him,  stupid  —  ask 
him,  ask  him,  ask  him."]  .  .  . 

I  haven't  yet  told  about  J.'s  first  coming,  nor  about 
mamma's  death,  nor  any  of  those  things,  although  I  sup- 
pose they  ought  to  have  gone  in  long  ago.  I  think  before 
I  began  writing  about  J.,  I  was  trying  to  show  how  by  C.'s 
allowing  herself  to  be  ruled  by  one  idea  we  grew  farther 
and  farther  apart  until  by  the  time  I  got  my  eyes  open,  and 
even  before  that,  we  had  scarcely  anything  in  common. 
Sometimes  I  used  to  feel  sorry  for  her,  but  more  often 
impatient.  There  were  so  many  things  that  she  was  un- 
reasonable about,  so  many  things  that  she  could  not  or 
would  not  see  —  would  not,  I  think,  for  it  is  the  same  still. 
She  holds  to  certain  beliefs  and  ideas  with  unwearying 
patience.  It  makes  no  difference  that  the  facts  are  all 
against  her.  It  makes  no  difference  that  people  never  or 
very  rarely  live  up  to  her  expectations.  She  still  ignores 
the  facts,  still  idealizes  the  people. 

By  "  she  "  I  mean  always  B  I.  I  know  nothing  what- 
ever of  IV's  thought  and  feeling  —  if  she  has  any  —  she 
does  n't  belong  here  anyway.  .  .  . 

Perhaps  there  were  other  reasons  besides  the  one  about 
mamma  for  our  growing  apart.  C.  always  does  things 
very  differently  from  me.  She  is  so  tremendousl}'  in 
earnest,  and  I  don't  think  I  am  —  not  often  — for  it  makes 
me  feel  squeezed.      \^Please  —  jjlease — i^lexise  —  find   me 



another  word,  Dr.  Prince.     I  don't  want  B  IV  to  see  this.] 

—  And  her  being  so  in  earnest  helped  to  separate  us  too, 
and  accounts,  I  suppose,  for  her  knowing  so  much  more 
in  certain  directions  than  I  do,  about  books  and  pictures 
and  those  things,  I  mean.  .  .  .  But  when  I  came  J.  was 
glad  enough  to  drop  all  that  and  be  simply  himself. 
He  was  perfectly  bewildered,  though,  at  first;  he  could 
not  understand  how  I  had  changed  so  suddenly  and  so 
completely.  It  was  amusing  too,  his  saying  often  that  he 
did  n't  know  whether  —  [unfinished]  .  .  . 

[Sally  (to  B  IV  in  answer  to  some  remark,  probably 
protesting).  "  I  won't,  I  won't,  I  won't.  I  don't  care  that 
for  you."] 

.  .  .  Mamma  was  very  ill  for  a  long  time  before  she  died, 
and  during  this  time  C.  did  all  sorts  of  absurd  things  so 
that  I  did  not  know  for  a  long  time  what  she  was  thinking 
about.  No,  she  was  not  at  all  lilce  B  IV,  but  she  had  lial- 
lucinations  of  hearing  and  sight  very  much  like  the  pneu- 
monia delirium,  and  the  doctor  said  she  was  threatened 
with  brain  fever.  She  was  not  "  real,"  you  know,  not  her- 
self.    I  hardly  know  how  to  describe  it  —  it  was  so  dreadful 

—  worse  than  anything  that  had  ever  happened.  I  used  to 
want  to  come  —  to  be  outside  again  ^  —  but  I  never  could, 
and  I  did  not  know  then  how  much  it  is  possible  for  me  to 
influence  C,  even  when  she  is  in  this  queer  state,  without 
coming,  without  being  outside.  When  I  am  outside  now 
they  seem  to  be  dead.  At  least  if  they  are  n't  I  don't  see 
what  has  become  of  them.  They  are  n't  in  me  because 
I  am  always  just  one.  If  they  were,  I  should  have  all  their 
knowledge  as  well  as  their  memory  and  feeling,  and  I 
have  n't.  But  B  IV  must  be  C.  rattled,  even  if  I  don't 
know  her  thoughts,  for  we  are  still  connected  in  some  way, 
else  I  could  not  make  her  see  and  hear  things  and  not  see 
and  hear  them.     Perhaps  it 's  through  B  II,  yet  it  can't  be 

^  Referriug  to  the  period  of  infancy. 


the  real  B  II,  for  I  always  know  what  she  thinks  —  always 
—  although  Dicky  says  he  thinks  I  don't  when  it 's  B  IV 
that  is  hypnotized.  He  says  there  is  a  part  I  cannot 
get.  .  .  . 

■However,  to  return  to  the  time  of  mamma's  illness. 
/T*,  fnn^if^d  tbnt  it  hw]  n11  nomp  bfflniL^i>f  hex ;. ihat^hejiad 
fgllpp  ahn^f-,  ^)f  God's  requirements.  She_tormentedMh^rse]i 
and  me  too,  night  and  day  with  going  over,  and  over,  and 
over,  everything  that  had  happened  since  she  was  born, 
thinking  this,  that,  and  the  other,  —  that  she  had  not  been 
earnest  enough,  that  she  hadnotjoved  mamma  as  deeply 
'g;S_ahg__§hould,  that  she  had  been  dreamiiig  away  hpr  1ifg_ 
Jpateadjof  acting.  It  was  all  rubbish.  She  had  never  done 
anything  then.  A^d  as  for  mamma,  she^never  wanted  C. 
near  her^after^  we  grew  older.  She  did  n't  even  want  to 
see_heiviuiiLwas_,alw^s _saying,  "Keep  out  of  my  sight." 
And  I  know  why,  because  of  something  that  happened  once 
when  C.  had  been  taking  medicine  and  was  sound  asleep  — 
If  I  had  been  asleep  too  I  should  n't  have  known  it.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Just  before  mamma  died  C.  had  a  severe  nervous 
shock  which  affected  her  in  some  way,  so  that  I  did  not 
know,  except  occasionally,  what  she  was  thinking.  We  were 
separated  just  as  B IV  and  I  are  now.  C.  had  been  very  rest- 
less and  nervous  during  the  day,  had  been  scolded  and  sent 
to  bed  several  times  that  evening,  but  had  finally  managed 
to  steal  unnoticed  into  the  room  where  the  baby  was  kept 
to  prevent  its  disturbing  mamma,  for  it  cried  incessantly. 
She  took  it  in  her  arms  —  nasty  squally  little  thing  ^  —  to 
soothe  it,  and  after  a  time  it  grew  quieter ;  then  still  more 
quiet,  until  finally  it  gave  a  cuiious  little  gasp  and  stopped 
breathing  altogether.  But  C.  had  not  noticed  it,  for  she 
had  entirely  forgotten  the  child  in  going  over  and  over  for 
tlie  ten  tliousandth  time  her  sins.    She  sat  there  gazing  into 

^  B  IV  and  I  do  not  like  babies ;  C.  does.  B I  and  I  do  like  animals ;  B  IV 
does  u't.    I  like  toads,  spiders,  etc. ;  B I  and  B  IV  do  not. 


space  until  morning,  until  the  nurse  came,  and  for  a  wonder 
the  nurse  was  n't  cross.  She  simply  kissed  C.'s  forehead 
and  took  the  child  out  of  her  arms.  Then  she  started  a 
little,  asked  C.  how  long  she  had  been  there,  and  how  long 
since  the  baby  had  stopped  crying.  But  she  did  n't  say  it 
was  dead.  She  said  it  was  better,  but  that  C.  herself  would 
be  ill  unless  she  slept,  and  she  begged  her  to  go  and  lie 
down.  C.  did  not  know  until  late  that  afternoon,  when  she 
heard  the  nurse  telling  some  one,  that  the  baby  had  died 
in  her  arms,  although  I  knew  immediately  that  it  must  be 
dead.i  .  .  . 

Soon  afterward  mamma  died  too,  and  then  I  lost  C.  for 
a  time  —  for  weeks,  I  think  —  during  which  she  went  about 
and  did  things  much  as  usual,  apparently.  But  it  was  only 
apparently,  for  at  night  when  we  were  alone  again  — 

(The  "auto "being  interrupted,  the  account  of  C.'s  mental 
condition  following  her  mother's  death  is  unfinished.  She  was 
in  a  disintegrated  condition.) 

.  .  .  Have  I  said  enough  about  mamma's  illness,  death, 
etc.,  and  C.'s  curious  mental  condition  at  that  time  ?  ,  .  . 
The  next  thing  of  any  great  importance  that  occurred 
was_tii£_beginning_ol^/s^Jn(^^  with  J.,  which  was 
really  the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  so  much  fuller  was  it 
in  thought  and  action  than  the  old  had  been.  We  saw  him 
first  shortly  after  mamma's  death,  and  C.  both  at  that  time^ 
.and^  often  afterward  fancied  him  unreal,  sent  as  a  sort  oi 
-heavenly  messenger  to  reassure  her  about  mamma.  And 
not  only  was  she  puzzled  and  confused  with  regard  to  him, 
but  with  regard  to  everything  else  that  happened  during 
that  year.  Her  account  of  that  time  as  given  to  J.,  to 
Mrs.  X.,  and  to  Dr.  P.  is  false  in  nearly  every  particular, 

^  I  always  see  and  know  most  things  more  quickly  than  C.  does,  but  I 
do  not  seem  to  know  them  more  quickly  than  B  IV  guesses  them. 
2  My  own  did  not  begin  until  years  and  years  afterwards. 


although  she  herself  and,  I  think,  the  Idiot  still  believe  it 
true.  J.  beUeves  it  also  and  fancies  that  he  remembers 
certain  things  as  having  actually  occurred.  But  he  does  n't, 
nevertheless.  He  was  for  the  greater  part  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  C,  and  what  he  now  thinks  he  remembers  as 
liaving  occurred  then  he  really  remembers  only  because  it 
was  told  to  him  then.  He  used  to  believe  everything  C. 
said  before  I  came.     He  does  n't  now. 

I  do  not  mean  that  C.  deliberately  planned  to  mislead 
him,  but  that  she  hersm  £ould,„not_^istinguish  between 
her,  visions,  haUucinations^  impressions,  whatever  ynn  call 
thej»jjyid^jlie_rgalit^.  She  honestly  believed  herself  the 
victim  of  fierce  persecution,  and  her  intensity,  together 
with  his  absolute  faith  in  her,  forced  this  belief  on  J.  also. 
It  was  very  funny.  He  used  to  sympathize  so  heartily 
and  give  such  amusing  advice,  never  questioning  anything. 
I  find  it  most  difficult  to  try  to  make  you  understand  clearly 
her  mental  condition  at  that  time.  Things  did  not  happen 
at  all  as  she  says,  yet  in  her  account  of  them  the  halluci- 
nations are  so  cleverly  interwoven  with  real  happenings 
that  it  is  hard  to  distinguish  between  them.  J.  could  not, 
and  I  think  you  have  n't  ^  ...  I  could  not  tell  J.  all  this, 
for  I  never  talked  to  him  then,  but  I  knew  it  just  as 
perfectly  as  I  do  now. 

Despite  all  this  mental  confusion  and  inability  to  recog- 
nize her  hallucinations  as  such,  C.  was  on  the  whole  very 
much  more  reasonable,  more  like  other  people,  I  mean,  from 
the  time  of  first  meeting  J.  until  the  time  he  frightened 
her.  She  gradually  ceased  to  think  of  mamma  as  suffer- 
ing, of  herself  as  being  responsible,  although  there  were 
times  when  the  old  feelings  seemed  to  return  with  great 
force  and  I  was  afraid  she  would  give  in  to  them.  But 
having  so  many  other  things  to  think  of  and  J.  to  talk 

1  All  these  details  of  her  early  life  have  been  omitted  in  the  biographical 
account  given  in  the  first  two  chapters. 


with  helped  her.  She  dreamed  of  devoting  her  life  to  hira, 
of  being  always  with  him.  To  exprf^ssj  it.  rlifFprAnfly,  ]]^. 
was  the  second  divinity  to  whom  she  did  reverence, 
mamma  having  been  the  firsts  Mrs.  X.  was  not  the  third, 
but  a  continuation  of  mamma,  and  so  first,  I  think.  The 
others,  greater  and  lesser,  may  be  arranged  some  other 
time.  They  are  n't  very  interesting  except  perhaps  as  show- 
ing how  differently  they  were  ranked  in  our  respective 
minds.  We  always  saw  them  differently  and  hence  cared 
for  them  in  different  degrees.  I  'm  not  sure,  though,  that 
I  do  not  like  myself  best  of  all  the  people  I  have  known. 
By  myself  I  do  not  mean  I  or  IV,  I  mean  just  Sally  Beau- 
champ.  At  any  rate  I  do  not  get  tired  of  myself  as  I  seem 
to  sooner  or  later  of  every  one  else.  ...  To  return  to  C.'s 
fright,  however.  Dr.  P.  seems  to  think  it  changed  her  to 
B  IV.^  But  it  didn't.  IV  came  years  and  years  and 
years  afterward  in  Boston.  She  never  saw  "  Providence." 
As  for  C.'s  being  profoundly  affected  by  that  night's  ex- 
perience, it  is  absurd.  ...  If  she  hadn't  been  so  stupid 
she  would  have  listened  to  his  explanation  instead  of  re- 
peating over  and  over  again  like  a  parrot,  "  Oh,  go  away, 
go  away,  do  go  away !  "  She  did  n't  hear  anything  he  said, 
but  I  did  and  know  all  about  it  now.  No  one  else  does, 
except  possibly  C  II,  who  often  sees  and  hears  things  which 
B  I  and  IV  know  nothing  about.  But  seeing  and  hearing 
do  not  make  her  real.  The  only  "  real "  ones  are  C.  and 
myself,  II  being  C.  asleep,  and  IV,  C.  rattled.  Sometimes 
she  is  more  rattled,  sometimes  less,  but  that  does  n't  alter 
the  fact  that  she  is  stiU  C.  It  is  confusing  to  have  so 
many  names  for  her  and  I  do  not  like  it.  .  .  .  J.  did  "  go 
away"  finally  and  didn't  come  back.  He  sent  a  great, 
great  many  letters  to  tell  C.  how  sorry  he  was,  but  she 
would  n't  open  any  of  them,  even  when  they  were  directed 
in  different  handwriting.  She  sent  them  all  back  at  first, 
1  This,  of  coarse,  is  an  error  on  Sally's  part.    It  changed  her  to  B  L> 


afterward  she  dropped  them  into  the  fire,  and  I  was  simply 
aching  to  read  them.  Not  because  I  cared  particularly 
about  J;  I  didn't,  but  neither  did  I  care  about  C,  and  of 
the  two  he  was  certainly  much  the  more  interesting,  for  C. 
was  "  off  "  again,  just  as  after  mamma's  illness  and  death. 
C.  became  much  as  she  had  been  then,  only  she  did  not 
have  hallucinations,  visions,  etc.  She  became  B  I.  No 
one  seemed  to  recognize  this  change,  however,  as  she  kept 
on  with  her  work  just  as  usual.  They  would  have  been 
much  more  likely  to  notice  her  eccentricities  had  she  been 
brought  into  closer  contact  with  them,  but  coming  on  duty, 
as  she  did,  when  every  one  else  was  going  off,  and  being 
alone  all  night  save  for  an  occasional  visitation  from  Miss 
Y.,  she  escaped  criticism.  They  commented  on  lier  pallor 
and  on  her  extreme  nervousness,  but  these  things  were 
nothing  new,  and  were  ascribed  to  her  inability  to  sleep. 
Miss  Y.  indeed  used  to  hint  that  she  feared  for  C.'s  reason, 
but  she  never  said  anything  very  definite.  I  think  she  was 
puzzled  and  interested,  and  wished  C.  to  believe  that  she 
knew  a  great  deal  more  than  she  really  did.  .  .  .  Miss  Y. 
appealed  to  her  sympathy,  besides  having  a  peculiar  sort  of 
fascination  for  her  in  being  different  from  any  one  else  she 
had  ever  known.  She  interested  herself  in  all  the  things 
C.  cared  for,  devoting  herself  to  the  cliildren,  telling  of  her 
experiences  among  the  poor  and  discussing  books,  music, 
etc.,  by  the  hour.  She  had  to  do  niost  of  this  at  night 
after  every  one  else  had  gone  to  bed,  as  Miss  E.  watched 
her  constantly  during  the  day.  She  would  appear  about 
one  or  two  o'clock  with  a  book  and  urge  C.  to  lie  down 
and  rest  while  she  kept  watch  over  the  patients,  but  as  C. 
never  would  do  this  she  finally  contented  herself  with  sit- 
ting and  talking,  sometimes  until  daylight.  (This  was 
really  very  curious,  for  now  she  has  to  have  ten  hours' 
sleep  every  night.)  All  this  to  account  for  Miss  Y.'s  pres- 
ence in  the  room  when  J.  came  [at  the  window].     Earlier 


in  the  night  there  had  been  a  heavy  shower  which  had 
made  the  children,  and  some  of  the  otlier  patients  as  well, 
quite  restless.  .  .  .  C.  herself  was  nervous  and  excited, 
questioning  almost  for  the  first  time  the  [course  which 
she  ought  to  pursue.]  .  .  .  She  had  been  wanting  for  weeks 
to  write  Miss  D.^  about  it  and  J.'s  refusal  to  allow  this 
troubled  her  greatly.  I  should  have  said  before,  I  suppose, 
that  knowing  Miss  D.  entirely  changed  C.'s  conception  of 
many  things.  ...  As  a  child  and  as  a  girl  she  had  been 
so  much  alone,  so  dependent  upon  heraelf  for  the  solution 
of  all  problems  that  troubled  her,  that  she  had  gmdually 
come  to  be  guided  by  law^-of  her  own  making,  ignorant 
of  those  already  existing  for  mankind.  This  despite  her 
early  belief  in  God  and  her  desire  to  live  and  die  for 
mamma.  However  pious  and  devout  all  that  nonsense 
may  seem  at  first,  when  analyzed  it  resolves  itself  simply 
into  an  expression  of  the  same  feeling  which  later  led  to 
her  devoting  herself  to  J.  .  .  . 

Of  so-called  "  religious  instruction  "  and  "  ethical  train- 
ing" we  never  had  any.  Until  after  mamma's  death  we 
had  never  been  to  Sunday-school  but  once,  as  a  visitor, 
and  never  to  church  but  twice.  I  think  that 's  why  I  hate 
it  all  so  much  now.  Mamma  had  told  C.  that  she  must 
never,  never  tell  a  lie,  never  be  in  any  one's  debt,  and  never 
do  a  mean  or  cowardly  thing^  This  was  aTT  that  C.  had 
with  which  to  build  until  J.  came  and  afterward  Miss  D. 
I  am  not  forgetting  her  school  life.  That  brought  greater 
problems  rather  than  added  knowledge  in  this  respect. 

When  J.  came,  although  he  was  familiar  with  such  things, 
he  seemed  infinitely  to  prefer  listening  to  C.'s  fancies  to 
expressing  any  opinions  of  his  own.  He  thought  her 
awfully  good,  but  "  the  most  unconventional  child  "  he  had 
ever  seen.  Occasionally  he  would  correct  and  suggest,  but 
not  often.     With  Miss  D.  it  was  very  different.     She  cor- 

1  Later  Mrs.  X. 



rected,  suggested,  marched  C.  off  to  church,  laid  out  a 
course  of  reading  for  her,  and  in  various  other  ways  helped 
to  develop  her  infant  mind,  greatly  to  J.'s  amusement. 

(The  remainder  of  the  autobiography  was  carried  off  by  Sally 
and  secretly  buried  in  her  box  of  treasures  in  the  woods.) 

Aside  from  the  interest  pertaining  to  the  biographical 
account  of  the  early  influences  which  tended  towards  the 
disintegration  of  the  primary  personality,  the  value  of  this 
autobiography,  if  substantiated,  lies  in  the  description  of 
a  dissociated  mind,  and  of  the  alleged  cleavage  of  con- 
sciousness dating  back  to  early  childhood,  and  of  a  fairly 
continuous  and  organized  subconscious  life  from  that  date. 
According jto_Sally's  caempryuthe  separation  began  some- 
where^aboiit  the  period  when  the  child  was  learning  to 
walk,  Nvhatever  age  that  might  have  been.  Sally,  having 
no  notion  of  time,  does  not  realize  the  significance  of  age, 
or  have  any  idea  of  her  own  age  at  different  periods.  To 
say  she  was  two  years  old,  or  ten,  would  have  the  same 
significance  to  her.  We  cannot  be  too  cautious  in  accept- 
ing introspective  statements  of  alleged  phenomena,  and 
however  difficult  it  may  be  to  explain  the  statements  of 
the  "  autobiography,"  judgment  should  be  suspended  until 
we  have  a  wider  knowledge  of  the  possibilities  of  abnormal 
psychology  than  we  have  to-day.  It  should  be  pointed  out, 
though,  that  in  kind  the  phenomena  do  not  differ  from 
those  recorded  throughout  this  study. 

In  interpreting  this  account  we  must  entertain  a  critical 
scepticism  on  several  points :  fii-st,  the  truthfulness  of  the 
writer;  second,  the  reliability  of  her  memory;  third,  the 
nature  of  the  cleavage  of  consciousness. 

As  to  the  intentional  truthfulness  of  the  writer.  On 
this  score  there  are  two  kinds  of  evidence :  first,  that  which 
pertains  to  a  belief  in  the  honesty  of  the  witness,  as  in 
court  a  jury  is  called   upon   to   decide  the  truthfulness 


of  a  witness  from  the  impression  of  lionesty  made  by  his 
character,  personality,  and  manner  of  testifying.  Unfortu- 
nately it  is  not  open  to  the  reader  to  form  a  judgment  from 
this  kind  of  evidence.  Speaking  for  myself,  I  can  only 
unqualifiedly  state  that  it  is  my  belief  that  Sally  firml}' 
believes  in  the  truthfulness  and  accuracy  of  her  own  state- 
ments. The  second  kind  of  evidence  of  the  honesty  of 
the  writer  is  to  be  found  in  the  contents  of  the  writing. 
This  kind  of  internal  evidence  must  be  judged  by  each 
one  for  himself. 

As  to  the  second  point  —  the  reliability  of  Sally's  mem- 
ory —  although  I  have  often  experimentally  proved  Sally's 
memory  to  be  in  many  respects  far  superior  to  that  of  an 
ordinary  primary  consciousness,  —  a  pecuUarity,  I  believe, 
of  subconscious  phenomena, —  nevertheless  it  must  be  open* 
to  tricks  and  hallucinations,  like  the  memory  of  ordinary 
people.  Every  one  is  liable  to  hallucinations,  commonly 
called  illusions  of  memory,  by  which  events  which  have 
simply  been  learned  by  hearsay  seem  to  be  remembered 
as  events  which  have  been  actually  experienced.  Sally 
indeed  thinks  she  can  remember  events  in  her  life  dating 
back  to  a  time  before  there  was  a  separation  of  conscious- 
ness and  which  she  places  in  infancy.  But  the  date  is  an 
inference,  and  the  facts  of  perception,  like  that  of  her  cradle, 
she  could  well  have  acquired  and  probably  did  acquire  at  a 
later  date.  She  might  well  have  been  placed  in  her  cradle 
on  some  occasion  when  comparatively  quite  an  old  child. 
It  is  not  uncommon,  I  believe,  to  find  people  who  remem- 
ber events  which  happened  at  three  years  of  age.  But  a 
memory  going  back  to  infancy  is  without  doubt  an  hallu- 
cination similar  to  what  many  people  have. 

More  important,  however,  for  critical  examination  is 
her  memory  of  the  beginnings  of  division  of  consciousness. 
This  separation  was  gradual,  and  at  first,  even  by  her  ac- 
count, seems   to   have  been  ill  defined,  embryonic.     She 


dates  the  earliest  beginning  at  the  period  when  she  was 
learning  to  walk.  It  was  apparently  towards  the  end  of 
this  period  that,  accoixling  to  her  memory,  which  may  here 
err,  the  development  of  a  secondary  consciousness  took  place. 
This  would  appear  to  be  somewhat  young  for  the  develop- 
ment of  pathological  secondary  states  and  the  division  of 
consciousness.  Yet  automatic  phenomena  indicative  of 
doubling  have  occurred  at  a  very  early  age ;  hysteria  some- 
times occurs  in  childhood.  Catherine  of  Siena  had  visions 
at  six  years  of  age,  according  to  her  own  letters. 

As  to  the  nature  of  the  cleavage  of  consciousness,  we  may 
ask,  Does  Sally's  statement,  assuming  that  it  is  not  an  error 
of  memory,  necessarily  mean  that  a  subconscious  personality 
had  developed  at  the  early  period  given  ?  To  my  mind  a 
rational  interpretation  would  be  that  the  present  subcon- 
sciousness (Sally)  remembers  a  number  of  isolated  sub- 
conscious perceptions  and  feelings  which  as  subconscious 
phenomena  were  more  or  less  normal.  Remembering  them 
now,  they  seem  to  be  her  own  personal  experiences,  just  as 
I  have  explained  the  hypnotic  consciousness  remembers  iso- 
lated absentminded  perceptions,  or  the  lost  isolated  tactile 
sensations  of  anajsthesia,  as  its  own.  Indeed  this  is  just 
what  occurs  with  those  perceptions  which  make  up  the 
fringe  about  the  focus  of  our  ordinary  conscious  attention. 
This  fringe  we  are  only  half  aware  of  or  not  at  all,  but  in 
hypnosis  the  hypnotic  self  remembers  it  as  its  own  con- 
scious experience.  I  have  made  numerous  experiments 
proving  this,  and  have  shown  that  when  all  the  personali- 
ties are  synthesized  into  one,  there  is  a  wide  fringe  of  this 
kind  in  Miss  Beauchamp's  case.  So  I  conceive  it  is  pos- 
sible that  Sally,  as  at  present  organized,  may  now  synthe- 
size the  memories  of  normal  subconscious  states  belonging 
to  childhood,  and  remembering  them  as  the  experience  of 
her  own  personality  seem  to  herself  to  have  lived  as  a  whole 
in  the  past.     This  is  suggested,  for  instance,  by  the  follow- 


ing  sentence:  "I  was  conscious  both  of  the  child  on  the 
surface,  so  easily  affected  and  diverted,  and  of  the  otlier 
child  (Sally)  who  was  years  and  years  older  (I  insist  I  was 
older  and  stronger)."  This  looks  as  if  she  were  retro-jectiyig 
her  present  self  into  the  past.  On  the  other  hand  it  must 
be  confessed  it  is  difficult  to  reconcile  this  explanation  with 
the  fact  that  Sally  clearly  recognizes  the  normal  subcon- 
scious states  of  her  childhood  and  designates  them  as  C  II, 
distinct  from  her  own  thoughts.  It  is  interesting  to  notice 
how  distinctly  some  of  Sally's  statements  of  subconscious 
life  embody  the  teachings  of  modern  psychology. 

It  is  difficult  to  accept  without  f urtlier  and  positive  proof 
that  such  a  large  systematized  self  could  have  been  organ- 
ized subconsciously  in  early  childhood;  and  yet  if  this 
interpretation  be  rejected  what  view  shall  we  take  of  the 
similarly  systematized  self  apparently  manifested  at  the 
time  of  this  study :  like  that  of  sane  Sally  while  B  I 
was  delirious  (Chapters  VII  and  XI)  or  that  described 
in  Chapters  XXII  and  XXVI. 

A  second  alternative  hypothesis  is  that  Sally's  whole 
memory  of  her  subconscious  experiences  during  childhood 
is  a  hallucination.  If  this  were  true  it  would  be  almost 
equally  interesting.  But  to  my  mind  this  theory  involves 
too  much.  It  is  incredible  that  such  an  enormous  syste- 
matized hallucinatory  memory  into  which  are  woven  a 
mass  of  true  memories,  as  corroborated  by  Miss  Beauchamp, 
could  possibly  arise  particularly  in  a  mind  possessing  a 
memory  as  accurate,  precise,  and  large  as  Sally's.  It 
should  be  said  that  the  main  social  facts  of  Sally's  autobi- 
ography are  corroborated  by  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp  as 
well  as  B  I  and  B  IV,  though  the  point  of  view  taken  by 
the  different  personalities  of  many  of  these  facts  is  charac- 
teristically different.  This  of  itself  is  of  psychological 

Finally,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  the  automatic  subcon- 


scious  phenomena  exhibited  in  ray  presence  during  the 
writing  of  the  manuscript  and  recorded  in  it  are  of  a  very 
unusual  character  and  worth  preservation. 

Sally's  autobiography  must  stand  as  it  is,  open  to  vari- 
ous possible  interpretations ;  yet  it  deserves  to  be  put  on 
record  to  await  the  observation  of  future  cases. 



n|"^0WARDS  the  end  of  April,  1900,  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
.1  storm.  The  barometer  had  risen  and  it  seemed  a  good 
opportunity  to  make  another  attempt  to  fuse  Miss  Beau- 
champ  and  B  IV  into  one  personality,  and  thus,  on  the 
hypothesis  tentatively  adopted,^  regain  a  complete  and  pre- 
sumably the  original  self.  The  early  attempt  to  do  this, 
begun  some  months  back,  had  been  interrupted  by  various 
vicissitudes  of  family  strife.  But  at  last  B  IV  had  become 
convinced,  for  the  moment  at  least,  of  the  impracticability 
of  the  present  family  arrangement,  so  she  agreed  that  a 
systematic  effort  should  be  made  to  amalgamate  B  Fs 
memories  with  her  own. 

My  idea  was  that  if  B  I  and  B  IV  could  be  fused  into 
one  character,  a  fusion  which  would  be  the  resurrection  of 
the  original  Miss  Beauchamp  and  the  restoration  of  the 
original  mental  relations,  Sally  would  sink  out  of  sight  and 
disappear  into  her  original  subconscious  abode,  if  she  had 

To  dispose  of  Sally  in  this  way  after  our  long  friendship 
seemed  cold-blooded,  and  I  confess  to  certain  qualms.  But 
what  was  to  be  done?    All  three  could  not  live.     The 

»  See  Chapter  XVIII. 

*  Because,  among  other  reasons,  with  the  synthesizing  of  the  dissociated 
personalities  into  one  personality,  a  considerable  part  of  Sally's  field  of  con- 
Bciousness,  e.  g.,  the  motor  part,  would  also  be  amalgamated  with  the  main 
personality,  and  Sally's  field  would  be  so  far  despoiled  that  there  would  not 
be  enough  left  to  constitute  a  personality  capable  of  independent  spontaneous 



choice  had  to  be  made,  and  the  law  of  psychology  con- 
demned Sally.  Sufficient  only  of  this  plan  was  told  B  IV 
to  obtain  her  co-operation.  More  than  this  I  did  not  dare 
disclose,  for  if  Sally  got  wind  of  the  whole  scheme,  as  she 
certainly  would  if  I  revealed  it  all  (for  she  heard  whatever 
was  siiid  ^),  she  would  do  everything  in  her  power  to  thwart 
my  endeavor  to  get  rid  of  her.  This,  in  fact,  was  always 
an  obstacle  in  the  reconstruction  of  the  original  self, 
for  whenever  Sally  found  herself  sinking  out  of  sight, 
"  squeezed."  she  bent  all  her  energies  to  frustrate  my  work. 
The  ingenuity  which  she  displayed  in  devising  schemes  to 
circumvent  every  attempt  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos  would 
have  done  credit  to  Machiavelli.  Miss  Beauchamp  she 
easily  checkmated  by  suppressing  her  letters  and  by  innu- 
endoes, hints,  and  even  by  forging  letters,^  which  gave  her 
to  understand  that  I  had  had  enough  of  her  and  was  un- 
willing to  bother  myself  further  with  her  case.  IV  she 
teiTified  by  perverting  the  statements  of  B  II,  making 
it  appear  that  II  revealed  in  hypnosis  private  mattei-s 
which  as  IV  she  would  almost  sacrifice  her  life  to  keep 
secret ;  she  also  told  IV  that  as  B  II  she  yielded  that  obe- 
dience against  which  IV  had  constantly  struggled ;  while 
both  B  I  and  B  IV  she  tormented  until  they  were  physi- 
cally worn  out.  In  this  way  they  were  kept  in  a  nervously 
unstable  condition  in  which  they  could  be  easily  controlled 
by  the  suteonscious  self. 

On  this  occasion,  when  the  plan  for  amalgamation  was 
explained  to  IV,  this  personality  insisted  upon  asking  awk- 
ward questions  about  what  was  to  be  done  with  Sally; 
whether  she  would  be  suppressed  for  good,  and  whether 
IV  would  know  all  her  thoughts,  etc.  These  were  very 
awkward  questions,  considering  that  Sally  was  ready   to 

1  This  would  be  practically  true  whatever  theory  of  Sally  be  adopted,  — 
whether  that  of  a  continuous  subconsciousness  or  of  an  alternating  self. 

2  E.  g.,  see  letters  of  October  5,  p.  434,  and  October  8,  Appendix  N. 


take  the  bit  in  her  teeth  at  the  firet  sign  of  danger  to  her 
freedom.  Fortunately,  I  succeeded  in  parrying  the  ques- 
tions sufficiently  well  not  to  excite  Sally's  suspicions. 

Accordingly,  B  IV  or  B  I,  as  the  case  might  be,  was 
'\  hypnotized  daily  and  the  proper  suggestions  given  to  B 
II.  The  results  in  many  respects  came  up  to  my  anticipa- 
tions. Space  will  allow  only  a  brief  r(jsum^  of  these 
experiments,  enough  to  make  the  consequences  intelligible. 
A  character  was  obtained  which  had  all  the  memories  of 
the  daily  life  of  B  I  and  also  of  B  IV.  But  more  than 
this,  this  character  seemed  to  be,  as  far  as  one  could  prove, 
neither  B  I  nor  B  IV,  but  a  composite  of  the  two,  al- 
though more  like  B  I  than  B  IV,  just  as  the  Miss  Beau- 
champ  of  early  days  in  character  more  neai"ly  resembled 

Differences  of  character  are  much  more  easily  recognized 
than  described.  It  is  still  more  difficult  to  substantiate 
the  evidences  on  which  the  determining  of  character 
depends,  for  psychological  characteristics  are  not  subject 
to  mathematical  measurement.  Still  the  difference  between 
good  temper  and  bad  temper,  between  frankness  and  reti- 
cence, between  good-will  and  bad-will,  between  the  desire 
to  help  and  that  to  hinder,  between  a  tendency  to  idealism 
and  one  towards  cynicism,  between  emotionability  and 
calmness,  —  differences  like  these  are  easily  recognized 
and  even  proved  by  simple  test  reactions. 

By  such  differences,  which  obtrusively  forced  themselves 
upon  one  and  which  had  to  be  tactfully  accepted  in  hand- 
ling the  case,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  new  charac- 
ter was  neither  B  I  nor  B  IV.  She  had  lost  the  reserve, 
the  depression,  the  emotionability,  and  the  idealism  of  B  I ; 
but  she  had  also  lost  the  quick  temper,  the  lack  of  faith, 
the  resentment,  and  the  cynicism  of  B  IV.  She  was  a 
person  of  even  temperament,  frank  and  open  in  address 
—  one  who  seemed  to  be  natural  and  simple  in  her  modes 

HOW   B  I  AND  B  IV  WERE  MADE  ONE      401 

of  thought  and  manner.  Yet  she  more  closely  resembled 
B  I,  and  might  fairly  be  regarded  as  B  I  restored  to  a 
condition  of  healthy-mindedness. 

But  it  did  not  often  happen  that  the  new  personality 
was  as  complete  a  fusion  as  this.  Sometimes  "  It,"  as  Sally  \ 
humorously  called  her,  was  distinctly  B  I  or  distinctly  'IV ;  I 
more  or  less  modified,  but  with  the  memories  of  both.  At 
such  times  the  fusion  of  memories  was  not  always  complete ; 
that  is,  it  did  not  include  the  whole  life  of  B  I  and  B  IV, 
but  only  specific  events  or  periods  of  time.  Between  these 
two  extremes  many  variations  were  observed,  the  mixture 
at  one  time  partaking  more  of  the  characteristics  of  B  I, 
and  at  another  time  of  the  characteristics  of  IV,  and  some- 
times being  a  mixture  difficult  to  identify  as  either.  The 
exact  kind  of  person  one  would  get  as  a  final  product 
was  always  uncertain.  It  depended  largely  upon  the 
status  of  the  family  concord  and  upon  the  acquiescence  of 
Sally  and  B  IV ;  but  also  upon  the  formula  used  to  wake 
the  new  person.  If  B  II  was  told  to  wake  as  B  I  with 
all  the  memories  of  IV,  the  new  person  was  more  like 
B  I ;  and  vice  versa.  But  when  the  most  finished  product 
was  obtained  the  fusion  was  a  character  which  was  neither 
B  I  nor  B  IV.  She  remembered  herself  as  B  I ;  she  re- 
membered herself  as  B  IV.  When  asked,  "  Which  are 
you?"  she  would  say,  "I  don't  know  which  I  am"  —  a 
leply  dictated  by  the  fact  that  she  knew  both  her  other 
existences,  and  recognized  the  likenesses  and  differences 
between  them  and  herself. 

It  would  be  confusing  to  designate  with  a  single  name  a 
person  who  varied  in  character  within  such  wide  limits,  — 
from  a  completely  fused  personality  to  a  modified  B  I,  at 
one  end  of  the  scale,  and  to  a  modified  IV  at  the  other.  If 
we  name  the  complete  or  a  relatively  complete  fusion 
"  The  new  pei-son  "  as  I  did,  then  the  less  complete  forms 
may  be  termed  the  New  B  I  and  the  New  B  IV,  these 



being  more  or  less  modified  B  I  and  B  IV,  with  more  or 
less  synthesized  memories.  Such  terms  are  necessary  for  a 
clear  explanation  of  the  experiments. 

Although  the  most  finished  product  —  The  new  person 
—  was  only  occasionally  obtained,  nevertheless  getting  such 
a  person  at  all  was  a  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  a  syn- 
thesis of  B  I  and  B  IV  could  he  obtained,  and  that  to  all 
appearances  this  synthesis  was  a  normal  individual.  It  was 
plainly  more  stable  and  less  suggestible  than  either  B  I  or 
B  IV,  and  better  adapted  to  resist  the  disintegrating  effects 
of  the  environment.  It  was  much  less  subject  to  the  little 
"  traumatic  neuroses,"  the  nervous  shocks  to  which  Miss 
Beauchamp  was  subject.  The  ordinary  frictions  of  life,  a 
hasty  word,  or  annoying  action,  which  would  have  caused 
in  either  B  I  or  B  IV  an  emotional  disturbance  with  all  its 
dire  results,  tended  to  pass  off  leaving  .the  surface  of  the 
new  person's  mental  life  scarcely  ruffled.  In  this  she 
approximated  normality.  This  degree  of  stability  dimin- 
ished according  as  the  fusion  was  less  complete  and  the 
new  personality  approached  B  I  or  B  IV  in  character.  Still 
even  "  New  B  I "  and  "  New  B  IV  "  were  more  stable  than 
the  unmodified  B  I  and  B  IV. 

The  new  personality  tended  to  remain  fused  for  varying 
periods,  lasting  from  a  day  to  a  week.  Here  again,  the  more 
complete  the  fusion  the  greater  the  stability.  The  modified 
B  I  and  B  IV  generally  persisted  but  a  few  hours,  relaps- 
ing soon  to  their  original  states. 

A  matter  of  importance,  as  we  shall  see,  was  the  memory 
on  the  part  of  B  I  and  B  IV  for  the  new  person.  When 
the  fusion  was  complete  both  B  I  and  B  IV  had  complete 
amnesia  for  this  new  self.  Neither  of  these  disintegrated 
pei-sonalities  had  any  recollection  whatever  of  the  periods 
of  time  when  they  were  transformed  into  the  completely 
fused  and  most  stable  personality.  Tlie  same  was  found 
later  to  be  true  in  respect  to  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp 

HOW  B  I  AND  B  IV  WERE  MADE  ONE       403 

when  finally  obtained  by  another  method.  But  when,  as 
was  most  often  the  case,  the  fusion  was  incomplete,  and 
we  had  only  a  New  B  I  or  New  B  IV,  then,  after  revert- 
ing again  to  old  B  I  and  B  IV,  each  of  these  latter  person- 
alities retained  a  memory  for  the  thoughts  and  actions  of 
the  new  personality.  This  proved  to  be  a  matter  of  con- 
siderable importance,  as  it  had  dire  consequences  which 
will  be  presently  related. 

The  characters  of  the  various  new  personalities  were 
clearly  recognizable  in  their  letters,  in  which  one  missed 
the  morbid  saintliness  of  B  I  and  the  vigorous  perti- 
nacity of  lY.  They  exhibited  rather  a  healthy-mindedness, 
though  this  varied  with  the  stability.  The  modifications 
of  personality  may  be  thus  summarized : 

(a)  New  B  I,  modified  by  the  ideas,  memories,  and  traits 
of  IV. 

(b)  New  B  IV,  modified  by  similar  acquisitions  from 

(c)  Intermediate  states. 

B  IV  and  B  I  each,  after  returning  to  herself,  remem- 
bered all  these  new  states. 

(d)  The  new  person,  an  apparently  complete  fusion. 
Neither  B  I  nor  IV  afterwards  remembered  this  state. 

That  the  new  person  was  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp 
did  not  necessarily  follow.  That  was  a  matter  for  object- 
ive identification.  Theoretically,  she  might  be  only  an 
artificial  creation.  Yet  the  possibility  of  artificially  fusing 
the  elements  of  the  two  groups  of  conscious  states  into  one 
personality,  much  as  one  might  by  a  chemical  synthesis 
make  a  new  chemical  compound,  is  not  without  interest. 

This  synthesis  is  an  interesting  study  in  itself,  aside 
from  the  stor}'  of  Miss  Beauchamp's  fortunes.  The  modes 
in  which  the  peculiarities  of  each  character  were  modified 
by  the  acquisition  of  tlie  ideas,  memory,  and  one  or  more 
character  traits  of  the  other  personality,  is  in  itself  well 


worthy  of  inquiry.  Such  a  study  is  bound  to  throw  light 
upon  the  meaning  of  character,  but  it  is  not  easy,  —  perhaps 
as  yet  not  possible,  to  interpret  the  results  correctly,  or  to 
trace  the  resulting  alterations  of  character  to  their  true  psy- 
chological basis.  Limitations  of  space  prevent  my  entering 
upon  a  detailed  description  of  the  modifications  observed, 
but  a  few  general  conclusions  may  be  stated.  As  far  as 
memory  went  the  synthesis  was  simply  a  combination  of 
the  memories  of  both  personalities.  The  same  was  true  of 
the  faculties  and  educational  acquisitions  which  one  or  the 
other  character  had  lost.  For  example,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered that  sometimes  B  I  and  sometimes  B  IV  lost  her 
knowledge  of  languages  while  the  other  regained  it.  In 
the  fused  personality  this  knowledge  was  retained. 

Some  other  characteristics  of  the  new  personalities,  par- 
ticularly of  the  completely  fused  new  person,  were  plainly 
to  be  regarded  as  the  resultant  of  the  fusion  rather  than  as 
simple  additions.  The  characteristics  referred  to  are  per- 
haps to  be  summed  up  by  what  we  include  in  the  term 
mood ;  the  absence,  for  example,  of  morbid  depression,  of 
emotional  impressionability,  of  exaggerated  points  of  view, 
idealism,  etc.  Other  characteristics  again  appeared  to  be 
feelings  and  emotions  which  were  introduced  into  the  re- 
sultant consciousness  apparently  by  the  force  of  the  law  of 
associated  ideas.  As  when,  for  example,  the  mere  awaken- 
ing in  New  IV  of  the  memories  which  belonged  to  Miss 
Beauchamp  brought  at  the  same  time  all  the  associated 
feelings  and  emotions  of  the  latter,  though  toned  down  and 
modified.  Other  characteristics  again  seemed  to  be  the 
resultant  of  a  return  to  normality  ;  as,  for  example,  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  neurasthenic  symptoms  and  the  return 
of  physical  and  mental  states  of  well-being  and  healthy- 
mindedness.  The  new  person  was  comparatively  well  and 

It  was  also  noticeable  tliat  the  New  B  IV,  even  when 

HOW  B  I  AND  B  IV  WERE  MADE   ONE       405 

largely  IV,  resembled  in  moral  character  Miss  Beauchamp 
more  than  B  IV;  that  is  to  say,  it  seemed  as  if  it  was 
strong,  vigorous-minded  IV  —  a  character  that  could  be  as 
a  whole  still  recognized  as  IV  —  that  took  on  the  moral 
characteristics  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  rather  than  the  reverse. 
It  was  IV  who  became  amiable  and  gentle-mannered,  and 
not  Miss  Beauchamp  who  became  quick-tempered  and  rude. 
It  was  IV  who  became  amenable  to  control,  open-minded, 
and  practical,  and  not  Miss  Beauchamp  who  became  hostile 
and  i-ebeUious.  It  was  IV  who  acquired  the  points  of  view 
of  Miss  Beauchamp,  and  not  vice  versa.  (A  further  dis- 
cussion of  the  experimental  syntheses  will  be  reserved  for 
a  future  study.) 

But  what  happened  to  Sally,  it  will  be  asked,  as  a  result 
of  all  this  ?  From  a  psychological  point  of  view  the  effect 
upon  this  dissociated  pei'sonalit}'-  was  not  the  least  interest- 
ing result.  In  the  fusion  of  B  I  and  B  IV,  Sally,  as  had 
been  anticipated,  tended  to  become  "  squeezed,"  to  disap- 
pear, to  go  back  to  whence  she  came.  The  more  complete 
the  fusion  and  the  greater  the  stability,  the  more  was  this 
the  case.  At  times,  when  the  fusion  was  most  complete, 
she  even  lost  the  power  of  influencing  the  "  new  person," 
as  she  used  to  call  her ;  and  although  she  still  "  came  "  she 
could  not  do  so  voluntarily,  but  only  by  accident.  She 
could  not  by  "  willing,"  or  b}^  any  of  the  secret  devices 
which  she  had  invented,  change  the  new  person  into  herself 
as  she  could  change  B  I  and  B  IV.  In  other  words,  she 
returned  once  more  to  lier  true  function  —  if  she  had  one, 
which  may  be  doubted  —  that  of  a  subconsciousness,  her 
wings  clipped,  and  her  powera  stripped  from  her.  She  was, 
to  all  appearances,  fused  in  the  new  personality. 

We  had  pieced  together  the  ddbris  of  personality  into  a 
whole ;  we  had  sent  Sally  back  to  where  she  belonged. 
Was  this  new  personality  the  Real  Miss  Beauchamp?  If 
so,  we  had  obtained  a  verification  of  the  hypothesis  that 


B  I  and  B  IV  were  only  quasi-somnambulistic  person- 
ages, disintegrated  portions  of  the  real  self.  If  we  ac- 
cept as  criteria  of  normality,  freedom  from  amnesia,  even 
temperament,  stability,  health,  and  absence  of  suggestibility 
and  of  abnormal  phenomena,  then  we  may  conclude  that  on 
a  certain  number  of  occasions  glimpses  of  the  Real  Miss 
Beauchamp  were  obtained.  Nothing  permanent,  how- 
ever, had  been  accomphshed,  though  if  these  experiments 
had  been  allowed  to  proceed  unhampered,  wdthout  inter- 
ference from  any  of  the  personalities,  and  above  all,  if  the 
personalities  could  have  been  induced  to  co-operate,  the 
problem  of  disintegrated  personality,  as  far  as  exemplified 
by  this  case,  might  at  this  time  have  been  solved,  much 
tribulation  and  sorrow  spared  to  Miss  Beauchamp,  and 
much  trouble  to  myself.  But  this  was  not  to  be.  It 
seemed  as  if  each  step  forward  brought  new  difficulties. 

For  the  acceptance  by  the  psychologist  of  much  of  that 
which  has  just  been  said,  the  details  of  the  experiments 
should  be  studied  with  all  the  recorded  evidence  bearing 
upon  the  conclusions  arrived  at.  But  inasmuch  as  at  a 
later  period  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  Real  Miss  Beau- 
champ by  another  and  much  more  reliable  method,  which 
was  more  certain  in  its  results  and  produced  a  much 
more  stable  personality,  and  which  besides  solved  the 
problem  of  B  II,  further  evidence  will  be  deferred  until 
the  time  comes  to  describe  these  later  experiments.  It 
remains  only  for  the  present  to  narrate  the  consequences 
of  the  experiments  which,  whatever  their  success  from  a 
psychological  point  of  view,  were  destined  to  be  ill-fated. 

When  the  new  peraonalities  awakened  with  all  the  mem- 
ories of  the  other  selves,  everything  would  have  gone  well 
perhaps  if  each  had  learned  in  this  way  about  only  her  ex- 
ternal acts  as  Miss  Beauchamp  and  as  B  IV.  But  each 
learned  more  than  this.  It  will  be  easier  to  explain  what 
happened  if  I  simplify  the  complex  psychological  condi- 

HOW  B  I  AND  B  IV  WERE  MADE   ONE       407 

tions  which  resulted  from  this  "  putting  together  "  process 
describing  those  occasions  when  the  new  personality  was 
only  B  I  more  or  less  modified,  and  those  when  she  was 
IV  similarly  changed  (that  is,  not  complete). 

When  Miss  Beauchamp  became  possessed  of  the  memories 
of  IV,  they  awakened  within  her  a  consciousness  not  only 
of  IV's  doings,  but  of  the  thoughts,  the  feelings,  and  the 
emotions  by  which  IV  had  been  dominated.  (IV  from  her 
point  of  view  was,  after  all,  herself.)  There  surged  up  within 
her  a  consciousness  of  how  she  herself,  as  it  seemed  to  her, 
had  acted  and  thought ;  she  saw  her  attitude  of  mind,  her 
rebelliousness,  her  anger,  her  subterfuges,  her  prevarica- 
tions, her  fibs,  her  plots  to  thwart  every  effort  to  aid  her 
that  was  not  according  to  her  wishes,  her  attempts  to  avoid 
control,  her  unyielding  determination  to  carry  out  her  own 
will,  —  all  this  she  remembered.  It  came  as  a  revelation 
to  herself  of  a  part  of  her  life  which  had  so  far  been  hidden 
from  her.  It  was  a  blow  to  her  pride  and  to  her  self-respect. 
She  remembered  her  thoughts  as  IV  just  as  any  one  of  us 
might  remember  moments  in  our  lives  when  we  had  lost 
control  of  ourselves,  being  for  the  time  perhaps  the  sport 
of  our  emotions,  or  when,  under  the  influence  of  circum- 
stances, we  had  been  dominated  by  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  ordinarily  were  foreign  to  our  natures.  So  the  life 
of  IV  at  such  times  seemed  to  the  new  Miss  Beauchamp  to 
be  her  own  past  life,  but  one  of  change  of  mood. 

More  than  this,  when  Miss  Beauchamp  returned  to  her- 
self again,  reverted  completely  to  B  I,  she  remembered 
herself  as  the  New  B  I,  and  therefore  still  retained  the  mem- 
ory of  this  revelation.  For  the  first  time  she,  the  saint, 
saw  herself  in  her  other  character,  IV,  a  character  almost 
the  antithesis  of  herself.  She  was  inexpressibly  shocked, 
humiliated.  Unable  to  look  upon  it  as  a  mere  psychologi- 
cal phenomenon,  a  freak  of  consciousness,  she  insisted 
upon  regarding  that  other  character  as  herself.     "  It  is  my- 


self  after  all,"  she  would  say,  and  yet  that  other  character 
was  so  foreign  to  her  own  that  she  felt  humiliated  and 
ashamed.  On  such  occasions  when,  as  the  result  of  my 
suggestions,  the  memories  of  herself  as  IV  poured  in  upon 
her,  a  great  wave  of  remorse  would  overwhelm  her.  *'  I  am 
sorry,"  she  would  meekly  say.  "  I  do  not  know  why  I 
behaved  so  !  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  "  She  looked  upon 
herself  as  one  who  had  sinned,  and  so  the  revelation  brought 
distress  as  well  as  possibilities  of  health.  Even  when  the 
personalities  were  most  completely  amalgamated,  the  new 
person  took  the  same  view,  although  in  a  more  reasonable, 
self-contained,  and  less  emotional  way,  for  she  was  in  her 
ideals  much  like  disintegrated  Miss  Beauchamp. 

Something  of  this  is  expressed  in  the  following  note, 
written  at  my  request  by  lY,  who  remembered  the  thoughts 
of  the  incompletely  fused  personality.  It  is  an  analysis  of 
Miss  Beauchamp's  thoughts  on  one  occasion  when  I  had 
made  her  remember  herself  as  IV.  The  fusion  being  in- 
complete, she  was  for  the  most  part  B  I.  As  one  of  the 
results  of  the  experiment,  when  IV  returned  to  herself 
she  also  retained  a  recollection  of  her  experiences  as  the 
New  B  I,  and  was  therefore  able  to  describe  them.  The 
occasion  selected  is  one  of  the  earlier  experiments  when 
the  first  realization  of  herself  as  B  IV  was  awakened  in 
Miss  Beauchamp. 

(The  words  in  parentheses  are  interpolations  to  which 
IV  assented  to  make  the  matter  clearer.) 

"  I  remember  everything  that  happened  yesterday  afternoon 
until  you  tried  to  hypnotize  me.  Tlien,  although  I  did  not  lose 
consciousness,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  changed  —  as  if  I  were  becoming 
my  old  self  again.  ...  I  fought  against  the  feeling  and  against 
you.  ..."  1 

1  In  the  first  attempt  B IV  was  only  partly  hypnotized,  but  her  eyes  closed 
and  she  was  strongly  influenced. 

HOW  B  I  AND  B  IV  WERE   MADE   ONE       409 

[The  letter  here  gives  a  brief  account  of  certain  specific  mental 
states  characteristic  of  B  I,  which  surged  up  within  IV  as  she 
felt  herself  slipping  back,  and  which  caused  her  to  resist.  Then 
repenting,  as  she  saw  that  I  was  about  to  give  up  the  attempt :] 
"  I  begged  that  you  would  try  once  more,  you  remember,  and 
this  time  I  gave  myself  up  entirely.  I  remember  only  your  say- 
ing '  Sleep,  sleep,'  and  then,  'Who  are  you?'  I  could  hardly 
answer,  'Miss  Beauchamp,'^  (New  B  I)  I  felt  so  confused.  I 
wondered  how  I  came  to  be  standing  there.  I  had  not  the  slight- 
est recollection  of  what  had  gone  before.  Then,  as  you  ques- 
tioned me,  and  I  remembered  what  I  had  been  doing  the  last 
day  or  two  (as  B  IV),  I  felt  ashamed,  humiliated,  and  fright- 
ened. I  longed  to  beg  your  forgiveness,  to  throw  myself  at 
your  feet,  to  do  something  that  would  blot  out  the  memory 
of  my  sins.  .  .  . 

"After  leaving  your  office  I  felt  troubled  and  distressed.  I 
kept  going  over  and  over  certain  things,  trying  to  find  out  why 
I  had  acted  in  one  way  (that  is  as  B  I)  rather  than  in  another. 
I  kept  thinking  of  you,  too,  recalling  many  things  in  connection 
with  you  (for  example  when  I  was  B  I)  which  I  have  never 
(consciously)  known  (as  B  IV).  They  may  or  may  not  be  true. 
I  cannot  (as  B  IV)  say.  Yesterday  it  seemed  as  if  they  were. 
But  to-day  everything  is  changed,  and,  as  I  told  you,  I  cannot 
understand  now  why  I  should  have  felt  and  acted  as  I  did 
twenty-four  hours  ago.  Yet  at  the  time  I  was  perfectly  sincere. 
I  did  not  realize  how  very  absurd  it  all  was  until  I  had  slept  and 
rested  and  become  my  normal  self  again  (that  is,  B  IV).  You 
see  1  could  not  have  been  B  I. 

"  April  28,  1900." 

When  she  wrote  this  note  B  IV  had  become  herself 
again  and  "  everything  is  changed,"  but  she  remembered 
herself  as  the  New  B  I  and  it  seemed  absurd  that  she  ever 
could  have  thought  and  felt  like  that. 

The  effect,  then,  upon  Miss  Beauchamp  of  the  reaHzation 
of  herself  in  her  other  character  was  humiliation  ;  how  was 

1  She  had  now  become  the  New  B  I  whom  I  had  awakened  with  remem- 
brance of  herself  as  IV".  In  the  interval  between  the  words  "Sleep,  sleep" 
and  "  Who  are  you  1 "  she  had  been  B  II. 


it  with  B  IV,  the  one  whom  Miss  Beauchamp  looked  upon 
as  her  Mr.  Hyde  ? 

As  long  as  IV  was  fused  into  the  new  personality,  and 
even  when  she  was  not  completely  fused  but  had  acquired 
through  my  suggestions  the  memories  belonging  to  B  I, 
she  became  modified  so  as  to  take  on  more  or  less  of  the 
latter's  characteristics ;  and  her  sympathies,  thoughts,  and 
feehngs  became  practically  those  of  Miss  Beauchamp. 
Along  with  the  awakening  of  the  memory  of  specific  acts 
in  the  life  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  there  was  also  an  awaken- 
ing of  the  associated  feehngs  and  emotions  that  had  ac- 
companied those  acts;  and  just  as  the  ac